


Love Is A Kind Of Warfare

by bri617



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Arguing, Distrust, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hacking, Hate to Love, Heartbreak, Kidnapping, Nosy Grandma, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Team Arrow, Torture, nobody said it was easy, payback's a bitch, spilled lattes, the good guys win
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-02-19 19:05:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 71,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2399492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bri617/pseuds/bri617
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arranged marriage AU: One week ago, Oliver Queen married Felicity Smoak, heir to the SmoakSolutions empire. A match made in business heaven. The only problem? He hates her. She hates him even more... An Olicity Story. Complete!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mr. & Mrs. Queen

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Idea and original characters are mine. All recognizable characters belong to DC and The CW. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
>  
> 
> Title inspired by this quote: Militiae species amor est – Ovid

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**  

_**\- May 2013 -  
** _

Oliver had met his future wife on a Wednesday barely four months ago.

One week ago, he had married her.

A match made in business heaven. At least according to various newspapers and magazines.

Sighing loudly, he sank down to sit on his bed. Yes, _his_ bed. Not _theirs._ Just one more piece of evidence to prove what kind of a ridiculous charade his life had become.

He had married that woman alright, not out of love – hell, _definitely_ no out of love – he downright despised the woman. No, he'd married her to honor one of his mother's business deals. Even though he suspected that this was more personal than business for her.

So why had he agreed to this farce in the first place? Different reasons, really.

His mother had been trying to set him up with a woman ever since he'd returned from his involuntary exile on Lian Yu. And he had actually played along for a good three months, partly to appease his mother after his rocky return to his home town, but more importantly, to establish a certain reputation for his public appearances. Plus, it was also a nice side effect that all these dates provided an alibi for his… other nightly activities.

 

 **⁂  
** **⁂ ⁂  
** **⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

_**\- 4 months earlier (January 2013) _ **-**_  
** _

Jab, jab, right uppercut.

_It had been an awful night. Truly horrible._

_Of all the things he had to do to keep his life as Oliver Queen as far away as possible from his life as The Hood, this was probably the worst. After the announcement at the dedication ceremony for the new Applied Sciences building in honor of his late father that he'd be starting to be part of Queen Consolidated, he'd been busy with letting actions follow his words._

_It's been three months of following around important QC department heads to get a sense of the company, its interests and fields. Three months of playing the dutiful son. Needless to say, the media was absolutely eating up his "transformation" from careless playboy to responsible heir to the QC throne._

_Even though he hated every second of his day job, it certainly served its purpose: nobody was suspecting goody-two-shoes Oliver Queen 2.0 of being the brutal and relentless, hooded vigilante that was "terrorizing Starling City's elite" (according to the Starling City Gazette reporter Jennifer Curtis)._

_Seeing her son being so enthusiastic and serious about his duties at QC, Moira Queen had decided that the next step for him would be to find a woman that would stand at his side once he was ready to take over the business. After not so subtle hints about moving on from his big love Laurel for the three months following his return from the island, she had finally taken matters into her own hands and had set him up for a number of dates with different women. Which brought him to the foundry on a Sunday night._

Jab, right cross, left uppercut, jab.

" _If you keep pummeling the poor bag like that I'm gonna have to order a new one… again," came the voice of his trusted bodyguard and partner in crime (pun intended) from the entrance of the foundry._

Jab, right cross, left hook.

_He delivered the last blow with more force than necessary and immediately regretted it. He looked down at his hands, his chest heaving from the exertion. He hadn't taken the time to wrap his hands earlier, too frustrated to care. Now his knuckles were burning and throbbing from his relentless pounding._

" _Happy now?" Diggle asked, smirking smugly at him._

" _Shut up," Oliver grumbled and went over to the salmon ladder, slowly rolling his protesting wrists._

_Diggle chuckled. "I take it the date didn't end well?"_

" _Yeah, nope," Oliver replied, while climbing the salmon ladder rung by rung. "I barely got two sentences in. She was just blabbering non-stop about her favorite spa treatments." He dropped back down to the floor. "I left when she asked me if she should keep waxing or finally get "that laser treatment"."_

" _Seriously, where does your mother find these women?"_

_Oliver looked grimly at him. "I have no idea, but I've got another date on Friday."_

_Diggle handed him a bottle of water and shook his head. "This is one of those times when I really don't envy the rich and famous."_

_The younger man just sighed and drank the water, closing his eyes for a moment to relish the feeling of the cool liquid against his throat._

" _Do we have anything on Jerry Martins?" he asked and pointed towards the computers._

_Diggle accepted the not so subtle topic change and sat down in the chair in front of the computers and began pulling up different files on their next target._

" _Jerry Martins, an investment banker who has swindled hundreds of people out of their life savings over the past twenty years. I found emails and phone calls to and from a lot of other people from the list. Is The Hood going to visit him tonight?" He swiveled the chair around to face Oliver who was leaning against a table._

" _Unless you wanna don the hood tonight, Martins will have another peaceful night. I have to get home, my mother expects the usual post-date sit down."_

" _I'll pass. I promised Carly to come to Big Belly Burger to be there when she closes up. The last couple of nights a few shady guys came by and she's a bit scared." He sighed. "The city really isn't that safe anymore these days. Wait, did you say "post-date sit down"?" he asked and stared at Oliver in disbelief._

_Oliver grimaced and shook his head. "Don't even get me started. She's a mother on a mission. There's absolutely no stopping her until I'm married to the perfect woman."_

" _Ha, good luck with that." Diggle got up and patted his shoulder good naturedly. "Haven't you already dated like 90% of the women in Starling City?"_

" _Haha, aren't you a funny guy tonight," Oliver grumbled in return, letting out a humorless laugh._

" _One of us has to be and that's clearly not you."_

_Oliver shook his head again. "I'll take the motorcycle to get home so you can go straight to Carly."_

" _You sure?"_

" _Yeah, I'll just shower quickly and then I'm gone, too."_

" _Thanks, man," Diggle said and headed for the door. "I'll be at the mansion at 7.30 tomorrow."_

" _See you then. Say hi to Carly for me."_

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

_An hour later, he finally stood in front of his mother who looked at him disapprovingly._

" _You just got up and left?" There was a hint of anger in her voice, but also incredulity. "Again? Honestly, I don't know what to do with you anymore. It can't be so hard to sit through a few hours of pleasant conversation with a beautiful woman and delicious food, can it?"_

" **Pleasant** _being the operative word here, mom. She talked about her body hair while we were eating," he shuddered dramatically at the memory and headed to the bar in the living room to pour himself a drink._

" _Unpleasant topic aside, she's a nice girl," Moira countered, following him to the bar and accepting a glass of red wine from her son._

" _She was superficial and self-centric. And she had absolutely no sense of humor." He took a sip of his whiskey and exhaled, relaxing for what felt like the first time that night._

_They sat down on the nearby sofa and Oliver leaned back and rested his head on the backrest, staring at the ceiling._

" _But, Oliver, can you honestly say that you tried?"_

_He lifted his head and turned to look at her, trying to keep his tone casual without letting too much exasperation slip into it._

" _Honestly? Tonight? No, I didn't try, because I could tell from the second I saw that woman that it wouldn't end well. I could just feel it and I was right." He sighed and took another sip._

" _Look, I know that me improving my public image is important for the company. I've not exactly brought a lot of positive attention to the Queen name, but this is just…" he trailed off and clenched his teeth, "Not the right way to do it."_

" _But Oliver, finding a woman for you isn't just so we get some good press," Moira started and took his hand. "I started introducing you to these women because I was hoping you might find_ **the one** _."_

_Oliver suppressed the sudden urge to groan. The one. Right, because there actually was a woman out there that would love him for who he was and not for his name and bank accounts. Someone able and willing to look past his scarred body and soul._

" _You know, when I was your age I had already been married to your father for seven years."_

_Oliver scoffed, "Yeah, well, in the last few years I wasn't exactly able to meet a lot of women…" He couldn't keep the unbidden flashes of Shado and Sara from swiveling through his head and ran his fingers over his chin, scratching the stubble lightly in an attempt to hide his, for once, entirely too visible reaction._

_Moira closed her eyes for a second and let out a shaky breath._

" _I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be insensitive…"_

" _It's fine, mom. But maybe it's still too early for me to put myself out there… after the island and everything with Laurel," he interjected quickly._

" _I thought you said you were okay with her dating Tommy?"_

_He sighed once again and took another sip of his whiskey before answering, "I am. We're… friends, I guess. But for so long she was all that I could think about. It's hard to move on from that."_

_He looked up to meet his mother's eyes and saw a glint of something in them._

" _What?" he questioned with a curious half-smile curling up his lips._

_His mother smiled fondly back at him. "I just really missed talking to you; we don't do this very often these days."_

_Oliver nodded but inwardly groaned at the prospect. "You're right, we should do this more often," he said, feigning enthusiasm._

_God knew he loved his mother but talking to her about this stuff wasn't exactly on the list of things he enjoyed to do. There were just too many things that he couldn't and wouldn't ever tell her._

_He emptied his glass and set it down on the table before getting up. "I'll call it a night, gotta be at the office tomorrow morning." He bent down to kiss his mother's cheek. "Good night, mom."_

" _Good night, Oliver."_

_**\- End of flashback _ **-**_  
** _

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂  
⁂ ⁂  
** **⁂**

 

He hated doing it, but he knew that bringing up the island made everybody uncomfortable, so sometimes he may or may not have used that to his advantage to get out of unpleasant conversations.

A knock on his door pulled him out of his thoughts. His gaze moved up and his eyes immediately clouded over, his body tensing, when he saw Felicity Smoak, scratch that, Felicity _Queen_ standing at his door.

"What the hell do you want?" he all but snapped in her direction.

For a millisecond he thought that she might have flinched at his harsh tone, but as soon as it was there it was gone again, her body visibly straightened up and she narrowed her eyes at him.

When she spoke, the tone of her voice matched the coolness of his own. "Your mother wishes to see us both at dinner tonight." She shot him an icy look and turned on her heels.

He couldn't help but shoot her retreating form an appreciative look. He might not be in love with her, but _damn_ , she was one very attractive woman.

His mind wandered back to the first time he'd met her merely 4 months ago. Back then he'd had no idea that that one chance meeting would mark the beginning of his new life.

 

 **⁂  
** **⁂ ⁂  
** **⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

_**\- 4 months earlier (January 2013) _ **-**_  
** _

_When he walked through the doors at QC the morning after his little heart to heart with his mother, he looked down at his watch and clenched his teeth. He was just short of running late for sitting in on a meeting with Walter. He nodded at the security guard at the front desk and rounded the corner to get to the executive elevator._

_He heard a woman's voice exclaim something that sounded a lot like an 'eep' right in front of him and he immediately knew that he wasn't going to make it to the meeting in time. A second later, he felt the burning hot sensation of steaming liquid splashing against his stomach, effectively drenching his crisp, white shirt and his navy suit jacket._

" _You've got to be kidding me?!" he shouted, his voice dangerously close to the Hood's._

_Looking down, he found himself staring into the shell-shocked face of a blonde woman who was frozen in place, holding her half empty coffee cup mid-air between their bodies._

_Her mouth was hanging slightly open and her gaze darted from the growing stain on his shirt to his face and Oliver could pinpoint the exact moment when she realized who she just emptied half of her coffee on because her eyes widened in an almost comical way._

_And really, were this any other day he would've probably laughed at the situation, but this meeting was important and now he'd have to show up late and with a ruined wardrobe in front of the company's most important investors._

_He couldn't help but level his assailant with an icy glare. The blonde visibly flinched before she regained her composure and broke the silence. In that instance, it was like a dam had broken, the words started spilling out of her mouth with seemingly no control._

" _Mr. Queen, I am_ **so** _sorry. I didn't mean to ruin your shirt and your suit. Not that I_ meant _to ruin anyone else's shirt and suit, because that would be plain mean, and generally, I'm not a mean person. And it would've been a bad thing to happen with anybody else, but with you it's probably the absolute worst case scenario because you're…well, you. You're a Queen."_

_Oliver closed his eyes briefly, caught somewhere between complete and utter annoyance and wild amusement. He observed her as she ran a nervous hand over her plaid skirt and took a steadying breath. Here we go again, he thought._

_"And that sounded like I was giving you the title of a queen… which would make you a woman." Her eyes drifted over his body from top to bottom and quickly added, "Which you're clearly not. So I guess that would make you a king…" Once again her eyes widened. "Not that I was just checking you out… or more importantly, checking if you had the right… equipment to be a king."_

_Oliver heard an "Oh God, why are you doing this to me" muttered under her breath before she took another deep breath. "But that's not what I was trying to say here."_

" _What_ are _you trying to say?" he asked, arching his eye brow inquisitively, not quite able to hide his amusement anymore. She had dug a hole so deep, Oliver was finding it hard to not feel sorry for her._

" _Sorry," she said and took a steadying breath. "I'm trying to say that I'm sorry."_

 _He looked her up and down for a second. Yes, it had been an accident, but, dear God, his mother was going to kill him for being so late_ and _completely drenched in coffee, nonetheless._

_He was about to reply when he suddenly heard someone calling his name from behind._

_When he turned around, he saw none other than Malcolm Merlyn standing in front of him. He quickly extended his right hand. "Mr. Merlyn, good to see you again."_

" _Glad to see I'm not the only one running late for the meeting with Walter," he said amicably and shook the younger man's hand, giving his formerly white shirt a scrutinizing glance. "What a mess. You should change before we head up there," he nodded down to Oliver's drenched shirt._

" _I'll text my driver to bring me new clothes, and just change after the meeting."_

 _Merlyn fixed the blonde with a stern look that left her a little squirmish, before returning his gaze to Oliver. "You know I've fired employees for less than ruining a tailor-made Kiton_ _suit."_

_Oliver looked down at the woman in front of him, not sure how to respond to Malcolm's not so subtle hint to fire her. "I'll deal with her later," he said, trying to sound cold._

 

_**\- End of flashback _ **-**_**_

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂  
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** **⁂**

_**  
** _

That had been the first time he'd met Felicity Smoak. At the time, he hadn't had any idea that this clumsy, babbling blonde would be his wife only a few months later.

With a sigh he looked down at his watch and realized he couldn't avoid going downstairs any longer. When he stepped out of his room, he froze. Opposite of him, Felicity mirrored his stance, one hand still on her door handle.

Great, now they were leaving their rooms at the same time. Wasn't that fucking adorable…

They walked down the hallway of the mansion's east wing, _their_ wing, towards the main part of the building, leaving as much space between them as possible without pressing against the walls.

Following their wedding, Felicity had moved into the Queen mansion to complete the deception of the public. He had moved out of his childhood room and together they lived in the east wing of the prestigious building. Each had their own room with lavish bathrooms and offices. The two bedrooms were connected by a living room. Scattered on the floor below and above them were a number of guest rooms, a lounge area with a large dinner table to host guests, a small library, a full-sized kitchen, and a swimming pool with a spa area. Basically, it was a home within a home. _Their_ home.

"Hack anyone lately?" Oliver spat out, fixing her with an icy stare.

To his annoyance, she just chuckled at that and when they reached the main staircase, she turned to him and said, "Nope. But it's still early. Wanna be on the No Fly List again?"

Before he could retort anything, she winked at him, a devilish smile playing on her lips, and hopped down the stairs two at once.

He stopped in his tracks. That might have been the first time she had actually smiled at him since the wedding. Sure, it had been a little smug and she was basically ridiculing him for his lame comment, but it had seemed genuine nonetheless. Why was she so happy? Any other day, she treated him like he killed her dog or something.

Usually, their days consisted of so many fake smiles and happy looks that he had lost count quickly. But just now she'd smiled at him and he couldn't deny that it had made her even more beautiful.

"Are you coming, sweetie? Everybody's waiting," came his mother's voice from downstairs.

He scrunched up his forehead in confusion when he made his way down the stairs. "Who's 'everybody'?"

"Tommy, Laurel, Walter, your sister and her… friend, Donna, and your grandmother," Moira rattled off.

Great, his grandmother was here. Even though she was the family matriarch she had no idea that he had entered an arranged marriage and actually believed and expected him to be head over heels in love with Felicity. The same thing went for Laurel and Roy.

"Why all the fuzz? Did I miss anyone's birthday?" he questioned, unable to keep the growing irritation out of his voice.

All he wanted was a quiet dinner that he could slip out of easily to put on his hood and cross another name of his father's list.

His mother looked at him with a comical expression on her face. "Honey, it's _your_ birthday."

Oh. Right, birthdays. People liked to celebrate those.

He plastered on a fake smile and scratched the back of his neck. "The last few weeks have been such a whirlwind, I totally forgot."

Moira seemed to be content with his explanation and before she ushered him into the dining room, she hugged him tightly and wished him a happy birthday.

Once he entered the room, he was showered with more hugs, kisses on the cheeks and birthday wishes from his friends and family. But despite the fuss around him it didn't escape his notice that Tommy was hugging Felicity tightly in the far corner of the room, sending a flare of... _something_ through Oliver's body. When they stepped apart, Tommy brought up his hand to cup her cheek in a gentle gesture while kissing the other. Oliver unconsciously gripped Roy's hand tighter, until Thea intervened his "big brother protectiveness".

He just shrugged it off, making a noncommittal sound before his eyes fell on Felicity's once again. This time, she was meeting his gaze and he could see the wariness in her eyes, that spark of uncertainty that he knew all too well when it came to their marriage.

She must've realized that they'd be forced to play happy newlyweds tonight and Tommy had tried to cheer her up or something. He never quite understood how those two had become friends after the shit she had pulled.

When he'd greeted everybody but her, he made a move to sit down at the table, intent on getting this over with as quickly as possible.

"And what about your wife? Doesn't she want to wish you a happy birthday?" his grandmother exclaimed slightly indignantly.

Oliver could feel how everybody's eyes shifted between him and Felicity. He looked up to see her freeze for a millisecond, before putting her happy-mask back in place. She let out a loud laugh which only he seemed to realize was totally fake, before striding over to him, her eyes never leaving his.

"Don't worry, Grammy, I already wished him a very happy birthday a few times today," she said while closing in on him. Her tone so salacious, that there was no mistaking what she meant to imply. "But of course I have no objections to doing it again."

Despite her apparent bravado and sureness, Oliver could see the hesitation and uneasiness rolling off of her tense body. From having to play the happy couple way too many times already, he knew that she enjoyed the charade about as much as he did.

She stopped right in front of him, hands shooting up to frame his face and pulling him down slightly. Standing on her tiptoes, she brought her mouth closer to his.

For a split second he thought she would actually kiss him, and more shockingly, for the same amount of time he _wanted_ her to. But instead, she left a lingering kiss on his cheek. "Happy birthday, baby", she breathed in his ear, making sure it was loud enough for everybody to hear.

"I really hope there is a R-rated  version of you wishing him a happy birthday, Lissy. Otherwise, I'll never be a great-grandma."

"Mother," Moira said sternly and let out an exasperated sigh.

Oliver could see Felicity blushing at the blunt statement and once again it was hard not to be endeared to her reaction. She let herself drop back to her normal height, shooting him a shy look of more uncertainty, and stepped even closer, her arms banding around his waist, effectively enveloping him in a tight hug with her cheek pressed into his chest.

She murmed something in his chest that he couldn't understand.

Surprised, he realized that he had brought up his hands to grab her waist when she had kissed him. Now pressed into him, he couldn't help but return the fierce pressure of her hold, trapping her against him.

What the hell was happening to him? Why was a hug with her affecting him this much?

When they finally stepped apart after a long moment, Felicity looked up at him with a sheepish smile, and judging by the shiver that ran through her body, she also felt the cold rush that went through him upon losing body contact.

He was sure the uncertain look in her eyes mirrored his own as he looked down at her. He could see the questions swirling through her blue orbs, her brows furrowing slightly in a mixture of confusion and concentration.

A few seconds passed where nobody said anything until finally Tommy chimed in. "I think it's great that you guys are all googly eyes and all that but I'm starving, so how about you break up your little PDA session and sit down so we can get started?"

After that, the dinner was more or less uneventful. Oliver and Felicity sat next to each other but both avoided any physical contact. He glanced over at her a few times during the 5-course meal, but she stoically looked everywhere but in his direction. What was that about?

Sometime during the third course, Tommy announced that he'd prepared Verdant for the traditionally required birthday bash. Oliver was quick to agree, seeing an opportunity to go out on the streets and make progress on the list, after all. Feeling better, he sat back and finally started to enjoy the meal, glancing over to his wife, he noted with a furrowed brow how she had stiffened at the mention of going out. This woman was just one big mystery to him. A mystery that he was intent on solving at some point. But not tonight.

 

 **  
** **⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ARROW ⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

_**  
** _

After dinner, Thea had whisked her away to her room to find something "short and hot" to wear to the party. While she generally enjoyed Thea's company and enthusiasm concerning fashion, tonight she was just not in the mood to entertain the younger woman's bubbly self, or go out to celebrate Oliver's birthday, for that matter.

But what choice did she have? She was his wife. Or at least, she had to play the role of his wife in public. God, this whole situation was so messed up.

She let Thea dress her and do her make-up, while she was completely lost in her thoughts.

During the whole dinner, she'd felt her mother's disapproving looks thrown her way. Apparently, the kiss on the cheek hadn't been enough of a show of affection in her eyes.

But at what point in her life had she not disappointed her mother?

Donna hadn't approved of it when Felicity had changed her hair color in high school, saying it made her look like another dumb blonde.

She had wanted her daughter to study in Princeton, her alma mater; instead, Felicity had gone to MIT.

She had wanted her daughter to intern at SmoakSolutions, but Felicity had chosen to complete her mandatory internship at Queen Consolidated.

And then she had gone as far as accepting the job offer she received from Walter Steele personally who was hell bent on binding her to QC after her graduation.

The only time Felicity hadn't completely disappointed her mother was when she'd (very) reluctantly agreed to marry Oliver Queen.

There he was again. Oliver Queen. Asshole extraordinaire.

The day she first met him was etched into her brain even four months after it had happened. And what a painfully awkward first meeting it had been for her. For him it had just been plain painful.

 

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** **⁂ ⁂  
** **⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

_**\- 4 months earlier (January 2013) _ **-**_  
** _

 

_Felicity couldn't believe her bad luck today. She'd overslept and barely made it to the QC building in time. Three feet before reaching the safety of her small office the heel of her right shoe had broken off and she had narrowly missed slamming her face into the door frame._

_While sitting in her chair and leaning down to put her beloved (but frowned upon by her colleagues) panda flats on, the phone had rung and startled her so much that she had banged her head into to the table, making her see stars for a second._

_The front desk had called her down to take a look at their computers that were acting up again. She had grabbed a much needed cup of coffee on the way to the elevator, forgoing a lit to let it cool faster._

_A choice she'd regret only a minute later, when she crashed into a brick wall of a man and poured more than half of the cup's steaming content over his shirt and suit._

_This day really could not get any worse, she thought to herself while staring in complete shock as the brown liquid spread over the stranger's shirt. The beginnings of an apology were forming on the tip of her tongue when she managed to force herself out of her daze and looked up to meet her coffee attack victim's eyes._

_And holy crap, the day had just gotten worse. So, so much worse._

_Standing in front of her was none other than Oliver Queen._

_Before today she'd only seen him on TV or in a magazine. Especially after starting to work for the company, he'd always been photographed with a big grin on his face, even though, if you asked her, she thought it looked a little fake. Right then, she would've give, anything to see that fake grin, but instead he fixed her with an ice cold look._

_She totally failed to conceal her body's reaction and visibly tensed under his intense blue eyes._

_She found her voice again and immediately started babbling like her life depended on it (and to be fair, judging by his look, her life_ did _depend on it), accidentally insinuating that she was checking him out to find his man parts._

_He had growled at her, like, literally growled when she couldn't seem to stop her ramble._

_Usually, she wasn't afraid of men and she could stand her own ground, but holy shit, this guy was pretty damn intimidating._

_She barely dared to look up again, fearing what she would see in his eyes._

_But when she finally did, she was surprised by what she saw. Yes, there was the anger that matched his icy stare from earlier (which had only warmed up marginally) and there was annoyance etched into the hard features of his face. But there was also something else that she couldn't quite place. Surprise maybe?_

_His lips twitched ever so slightly and despite his growly tone and grim look, she could swear for a second that he was fighting off a smile that threatened to break out on his lips._

_Huh, interesting._

" _Sorry," she said and took a steadying breath. "I'm trying to say that I'm sorry."_

_She watched him while he considered her apology and by the way his face softened she was sure he'd accept it and just brush off the whole incident. That was until his name was called from the entrance of the lobby._

_Talk about intimidating men. Malcolm Merlyn was in the Top 5 of her people-she-didn't-want-to-encounter-alone-in-the-dark-list. He was always a total gentleman during the few public events she had encountered him at, but at one of those she'd also seen a harsher side of him when she'd witnessed him firing his assistant after he snapped at her for wearing a dress that was the same color as his tie. That man was just a pretentious ass hat, in her opinion._

_She watched as Oliver greeted him and talked with him, a little annoyed that he just dropped her like a hot potato just because Merlyn waltzed in._

_Suddenly, the man in question turned towards her and fixed her with a condescending glance, before returning his gaze to Oliver. "You know, I've fired employees for less than ruining a Kiton suit."_

_Yeah, she knew that all too well. Bastard._

_And then to her shock the man, that had been just about to accept her apology, said, "I'll think about it."_

_Felicity watched their retreating forms speechlessly._

_Despite her mishap she was annoyed by Oliver's reaction. He could've at least acknowledged her apology instead of basically agreeing with Merlyn's suggestion to fire her._

_But hey, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he fired her, because she was pretty sure that once he took over the family business for good, he'd probably just run it into the ground. From what she heard from one of her friends who worked on the executive floor, Oliver Queen may be hot as hell, but had the business sense of a pebble stone._

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

_A few hours later, she sat in her favorite cafe writing a quick email to her mom on her laptop, while waiting for the very handsome and whom her best friend Jenny would classify as a "highly fuckable" barista to finish her low-fat extra foam extra hot caramel latte with an extra shot of espresso and a drizzle of caramel syrup on top._

_"Felicity, your order's ready."_

_Even without turning around she could hear the toothpaste ad worthy smile in his voice._

_"Yup, just one second," she said and concentrated on her laptop once more to finish the email and hit the 'send' button, without bothering to close down the lid. Because, seriously, what could possibly go wrong in the ten seconds it took her to go to the counter and get her coffee?_

_When she got up from her seat with a little too much enthusiasm, an uneasy feeling of impending mayhem settled in the pit of her stomach._

_And since the universe clearly completely hated her today, it only took a second to make her suspicions come true._

_The logical part of her brain warned her that she moved too fast and that she'd either knock over her table and maybe even her chair, or trip over her own feet and land flat on her ass._

_What happened next only took a few seconds in real life but to her it seemed like everything was moving in slow motion, prolonging the misery of the moment._

_Instead of hitting the table, she saw herself face-to-(very well-dressed) chest with a bulky man. She tried to move out of the way but her own momentum combined with the stranger's forward motion resulted in her completely being knocked off balance._

_To avoid falling down and causing an epic scene she grabbed for the stranger's arm to steady herself._

_When she heard the "holy shit" from the man in front of her she knew this situation was about to get even worse._

_Her eyes flickered down to where her hand held onto the man's arm and further down to his hand. There was some foam and light brown fluid dripping down from it._

_She caught sight of the cup that had previously been in his hand just before it hit her table and spilled all over her laptop._

_She couldn't help the (maybe a tad bit dramatic) "nooooo!" that escaped her lips._

_The very annoying logical part of her brain informed her factually that her laptop was fried, kaput, wrecked, ruined. Suddenly, she felt anger seep through her veins._

_Narrowing her eyes she moved back a half step to face the laptop killer and took a deep breath to give him a piece of her mind._

_But the words died on her tongue when she realized who she just ran into... again._

_Oh, you've got to be kidding me._

_Oliver Queen._

_Again._

_Son of a…_

" _You spilled a latte on my laptop," she said slowly, narrowing her eyes at him in accusation. "You killed my baby."_

_He gave her an irritated look. "Okay, a) it wasn't just my fault that this happened."_

" _What? You're saying it was my fault?"_

" _And b) it's a_ machine _. Get over it," he finished, ignoring her question._

" _Get over it? Who the hell do you think you are to tell me to get over it?"_

" _It's just an object. Buy a new one."_

_She scoffed. "Of course you would say that. You've probably never built anything with your own hands in your entire life."_

" _What?"_

_She noted that his tone was matching the irritation of her own._

" _I built this laptop. I selected every single part to meet my specifications and needs and then pieced everything together," she explained. "But this wasn't just any laptop. This was a prototype for a new office laptop for your company. It took me 7 months to find all the right parts. Seven freaking months."_

" _Well, maybe you shouldn't bring a prototype to a place where something like this could happen," he shot back immediately._

_Damn him for being right. It wasn't like she wasn't allowed to bring it outside of QC. In fact, she usually took it home with her on the weekends to work on it some more, but bringing it to a coffee shop probably wasn't her best idea._

" _Normally, it's perfectly safe here. You're here for all of ten seconds and suddenly my laptop is dead."_

" _You mean my laptop," he corrected her._

" _Your… what?"_

" _Well, if this is a Queen Consolidated prototype, it technically belongs to me," he replied, a smug grin firmly planted on his lips._

" _Are you serious right now? Is this your idea of payback for earlier? Because I gotta tell you, that's some twisted sense of justice you got there."_

" _I didn't do this on purpose," he growled, grin wiped from his face._

_There it was again. The growling. Did he think this would intimidate her or something? So yeah, maybe that had worked earlier, but not anymore. No, sir, not when they were discussing the untimely death of her work child._

_Just then she realized she was still clutching his forearm, a very muscular forearm. She let it go and took a moment to look him over._

_Instead of the white dress shirt that she had ruined earlier, he was now wearing a fitted dark blue button up with the sleeves rolled up. One might say he fit into that highly fuckable category if only he wasn't such an asshole in the character department._

" _Are you done checking me out?" he questioned, smug grin back in place._

_She opened and closed her mouth a few times, her brain refusing to come up with a witty response. Her phone chirped in her pocket, indicating the ten minute warning before her break would be over._

_She sighed and looked down at the ruined laptop again. With a sinking heart she realized that she was supposed to present the laptop to the board in less than an hour. Which had been the initial reason for her to come to the coffee shop in the first place. To calm her nerves with a big cup of delicious coffee to make her forget about the morning from hell she'd had._

_She still had a kick-ass PowerPoint presentation that contained 3D models of the laptop, but still, without the actual end product she'd look like a complete fool in front of the most important people of the company. All because of Oliver Queen, she thought grimly, anger finally replacing the shock she'd felt until now._

_Her eyes flew back up to meet his, annoyed to see the cocky smirk still playing on his lips. She ground her teeth together._

" _What? Now you're at a loss of words? That's gotta be a first," he teased._

_A devilish smile formed on her lips. "Mark my words, Oliver Queen. You'll regret this," she vowed darkly, jabbing her index finger into his chest, which she totally didn't to notice to also be very muscle-y._

_She gathered her things and turned to him, "Since this is apparently your laptop, Mr. Queen, why don't you clean up this mess?" she hissed and left the coffee shop, ignoring his protests._

_**\- End of flashback _ **-**_ ** _

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂** **  
** **⁂ ⁂  
** **⁂**

 

"What has you grinning like an idiot?" Thea asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Felicity opened her eyes, taking a second to focus on her reflection in the mirror. Thea truly was the master of make overs. She knew that she wasn't an unattractive woman on a normal day, but Thea could make her feel like a real life princess with just a few skillful strokes.

"Oh, you know... stuff," Felicity responded tentatively. Thea wasn't just good with make-up, she also had the annoying gift of seeing right through Felicity.

As if to prove that point, the younger woman countered cheekily, "Stuff? Or Oliver's 'stuff'?"

"Thea," she sighed exasperatedly, hoping the copious amounts of make-up would cover the profuse blush on her cheeks.

But Thea just clapped her hands, seemingly overjoyed. "I knew he'd eventually get to you. Didn't I tell you, Lis?"

"He didn't _get_ to me, okay? I was merely remembering the day we met and how much he pissed me off."

"Ooh, the blind date with our mothers, right? I remember that that week was just one big disaster for Oliver. Like, literally, everything that could possibly go wrong went wrong," Thea mused.

Felicity cocked her head, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Huh, is that so?"

The brunette regarded her for a moment before it dawned on her. "No.f _ucking._ way! That was you? All of it?"

"I plead the fifth," Felicity sing-songed and went over to the walk-in closet to find matching shoes.

"Oh, my God. It was you. The photo of Oliver leaving the sperm bank, the no fly list, the health department checking Verdant twice in like three days? The firefighters that stormed QC and the mansion?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," the blonde replied with the biggest shit-eating grin on her face, suggesting something completely different.

Thea looked at her for a long moment. "Can you teach me that stuff?"

 **  
** **⁂ ⁂ ⁂**


	2. Ubi fumus, ibi ignis

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

Oliver nursed his first beer, overlooking his club from the second level, leaning against the railing. He and Tommy had left the mansion quickly after dinner, while the girls were getting ready, to be there when the club opened. People had already been lining up outside and an hour later the club was completely packed.

It wasn't like anybody in there actually gave a shit about his birthday though, he thought bitterly.

"Enjoying your big birthday bash?" sounded a familiar voice from beside him.

He turned to face his sister. "Sure," he replied, sarcasm dripping from his words as he continued, "I love celebrating a day that means nothing to me with a few hundred strangers who just wanna get drunk and say they attended Oliver Queen's birthday party."

Thea raised a surprised eyebrow. "Wow, Mr. Grumpy Pants, try not to kick any puppies while you're at it."

He sighed and took a long drink form his beer. "Sorry, Speedy, today's not really my day."

"Well, if it helps, some people are actually here because they love you and are happy that you're around to celebrate another birthday," Thea murmured.

He did know that. But he could also count those people on one hand. He engulfed his sister in a tight hug.

"Thank you." His eyes drifted over the dance floor once again, stopping on a shock of blonde hair.

"What the hell? Is that...?"

Thea disentangled herself from him and followed his gaze before letting out a bark of laughter. "Your super hot wife? Yes, it is," she snickered. "Judging by the herd of men around her, you're not the only one who noticed her."

She stepped on her toes and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. "Don't duck out too early, Ollie, I wanna dance with you later."

He watched her leave, before returning his gaze to Felicity's dancing form. She was indeed surrounded by a ridiculous number of men, trying to dance with her. Currently, she was dancing with a tall blonde guy who looked like a wannabe Matthew McConaughey. When the song ended, Wannabe McConaughey bent down to speak in her ear, earning him a light nod before he took her hand and led her to the bar.

Oliver clenched his teeth. And then his jaw dropped when he finally saw what Felicity was wearing. Her dress, if you could even call that tiny scrap of material that, barely covered her behind. With her high heels and the indecent amount of clothing, her legs looked like they were a mile long.

He narrowed his eyes when he saw Wannabe McConaughey place a hand low on her waist, leaning in to whisper something in her ear. Instead of putting him in his place like she so often did when his own hands started to wander, Felicity just threw her head back and laughed at whatever Wannabe McConaughey had said and laid her left hand on his chest to steady herself.

The other man was apparently spurred on by her action and moved his other hand to cup her cheek. That combined with the the reflections of her freaking wedding band and engagement ring that were currently firmly placed on another man's chest, made something snap inside of Oliver.

He practically ran down the stairs, bumping into people while he made his way over to the bar. Without saying a word he grabbed Felicity's beringed hand off the man's chest and dragged her after him towards the storage room where he quickly punched in the code.

Once they were inside, he pressed her against the cold steel of the closed door, her left hand held in place by his right above her head. In the dim light of the room he could see the surprise swiveling through her eyes, leaving her vulnerable for a second before it gave way to the anger that he was so accustomed to by now.

"What the hell, Oliver?" she hissed.

He let out a humorless chuckle. "I was about to ask you the same question," he snarled back. "In what twisted universe is it acceptable spousal behavior to flirt with the next best guy one fucking week after the wedding?"

"You gotta be kidding me. Let go of me," she said, trying to wriggle her hand out of his grasp while simultaneously trying to shove him away with her free hand. But he didn't budge even a millimeter.

"Not until you explain to me why you would let yourself be groped by another man during my birthday party in my club where anybody could've seen you. Where anybody could've taken a picture of you. Do you want to have rumors about our shitty relationship swirling around the tabloids already?" He took a breath. "And while we're at it, what the fuck are you wearing?"

She regarded him for a long moment. "What makes you think you have any right to judge how I dress, or what or _whom_ I'm doing?"

"Because I'm your husband," he roared, slamming his free hand into the door next to her head.

She flinched and looked at him with wide and, for once, scared eyes. "Let go of me," she whispered.

This time he complied, unsure if it was out of guilt for flipping out or because her voice was as soft as he'd never heard it before. Both of his hands were now firmly planted on either side of her head, more or less trapping her in her position, but she didn't make a move to get away from him.

Instead, she tilted her head to the side in that usual fashion of hers. Calmly, she said, "What we have might look like a marriage to the outside world and yes, we both signed a document that legally binds us together, but we both know that it's nothing more than that: a piece of paper."

She brought up her left hand. "This," she wiggled her ring finger, "doesn't mean I'm yours. And that," she pointed at his left hand. "Doesn't mean you're mine. Despite what our prenup says, we agreed that we're both free to date other people as long as it stays discreet."

"Yes, discreet," he emphasized. "You being felt up in my club for the world to see is _not_ discreet."

She hummed in understanding. "Plus, it looked like you couldn't keep me... satisfied for even a week," she said sweetly, letting her eyes drift down his body.

He actually hadn't considered that until just then. He ground his teeth together in annoyance. God, she really knew how to push his buttons.

"Is that what this is about? Making me look like a fool that can't keep his wife happy?"

"No, this is about me enjoying a night out for once. So, if a nice guy asks me to dance and offers to buy me a drink, I'll take him up on it. And if I decide I wanna get laid tonight, I'll find a guy to do that with and you'll deal with it because that's what we agreed on."

For a moment his mind flashed to a scenario where she was pressed against a wall, legs wrapped around another guy. In his mind, he could see her flushed skin, hear labored breaths and passionate moans escaping her swollen lips.

With a sharp intake of breath he pulled himself out of his thoughts and took a hasty step back. Away from her.

Finally, he was able to put a name to what he'd been feeling ever since he'd seen her hug Tommy at the mansion earlier. Jealousy. Pure, unadulterated jealousy.

Of course, he wasn't new to this particular feeling. Despite his healthy amount of self-esteem, he'd felt the claws of the green-eyed monster close around his heart before.

But never with this kind of intensity. Never had he experienced the nasty little emotion with quite this fervor. He was ready to move mountains, to do whatever was necessary to protect what was his. Except that the person he regarded as his was adamant that she, in fact, wasn't.

But then again, she'd been stubborn from the start. If he was honest with himself, that was one of the qualities he lov... didn't find completely recoiling about her.

Oh God, he was so screwed.

 

**⁂**

**⁂ ⁂**

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

**\- January 2013 -**

_To say it had been one hell of a week would be the understatement of the century._

_It had been one of the worst weeks of his life. Which, of course, was saying a lot, considering that he had been stranded on a deserted island and been forced to kill more men than he was ever willing to admit._

_It had all started with what he dubbed as Catastrophic Coffee Monday. First, the quirky blonde woman had emptied a cup of scalding hot coffee on him, making him late for an important meeting and gaining the renewed disappointment of his mother, and then he had accidentally spilled coffee on the same blonde's laptop, which actually turned out to be a very expensive prototype of his family's company._

_So, Monday hat been a shitty day. Tuesday had started off quietly, until Tommy called to inform him that apparently there had been an anonymous complaint that had prompted the health inspector to pay the club an unannounced visit, sending him and Diggle into high alert._

_Oliver had rushed to Verdant and together with Tommy he had somehow managed to keep the inspector out of the foundry without resorting to bribing, again._

_Just after the inspector had left, his phone had started ringing nonstop. Reporters had been asking him to make a comment on sperm donation and why he'd decided to do it._

_Next, he had been called by QC's PR people who had urged him to turn off his phone and come to the office so they could run interference. Once he'd arrived there, he'd been greeted by a herd of reporters, paparazzi and women who were practically throwing themselves at him, screaming that they wanted to have his baby._

_By the time he'd reached the executive level, he'd been equally pissed and confused. And then one very intimidated PR guy had shown him the breaking news article titled "Who will be Queen's baby mama?" with a photo of Oliver leaving a sperm bank with sun glasses on, as well as a scan of a filled out consent form of the sperm bank that had his signature at the bottom._

_Oliver's jaw had dropped._

_What the fuck?_

_"That," he'd pointed at the photo, "is not me."_

_"Sir, with all due respect, I had a contact at the FBI run this photo through a facial recognition software and apparently it is you."_

_Oliver had towered over the younger man. "It's not. I've never been to a sperm bank. Apparently, someone is just very good with Photoshop. Make this go away," he'd growled._

_This week couldn't get any worse, he'd thought grimly while Diggle drove him to the foundry that evening._

_How wrong he'd been. How very wrong._

_On Wednesday morning, Walter told him that he wanted him to fly to Metropolis to have a meeting with executives at LexCorp to discuss the possibility of a cooperation between the two companies. As he'd reached the private air strip, he'd been greeted by black SUVs surrounding the company jet. A DEA agent had approached the car and explained to him that they had evidence that the jet was frequently being used to smuggle drugs._

_Oliver had just shaken his head in disbelief, telling the agent to contact his lawyers, and told Digg to gun it to Starling City airport, with any luck, he'd catch a flight that would still get him to Metropolis in time._

_After arriving at the airport, he'd jumped out of the car to run to the closest ticket counter, carry-on in one hand and his cell phone in the other. He'd slammed down his passport and credit card on the counter and asked for a flight to Metropolis while trying to reach Walter at the office to warn him that he'd be cutting it close for the meeting._

_Suddenly, though, his hyper awareness had kicked in. He'd looked at the young woman behind the counter who'd looked at him nervously, and then he'd felt like he was being watched. His body had tensed up visibly._

_"Sir, we need you to come with us and answer some questions," a deep voice had called out behind him._

_When he'd swiveled around, he'd seen himself face to face with no less than ten TSA agents and police officers._

_"What the hell is going on?" he'd questioned angrily. "I'm gonna miss my flight."_

_"Sir, you're not going anywhere. We're here to detain you until the FBI arrives."_

_He'd been led to an interrogation room, where he'd been left to wait for a good hour before finally a couple of FBI agents had walked in with a bunch of his family lawyers. He'd been informed that he was listed on the No Fly List and then they'd continued to interrogate him for four more hours before he was finally released, but remained on the No Fly List. Needless to say that Walter was thoroughly annoyed that he hadn't been able to go to Metropolis._

_Thursday had started early. Very early, considering that he'd come home from the foundry at 2am. Two hours later he'd been woken up by a frantic Thea who'd kept babbling something about firemen being everywhere. Sure enough, not ten seconds later, his door had flung open, sending him into to a fighting position while dragging Thea behind him. Five firemen, fully decked out in firefighting gear, oxygen tanks and masks and all, filed into his room, securing the area around them._

_Together with Thea, his mother and the on-site staff, he'd been told to go wait in the living room while the whole house was being checked for carbon monoxide leaks. Two police officers remained with them and explained that a code yellow alert, indicating a dangerous carbon monoxide levels, had been sent from the mansion's internal security system. Two hours later the whole house had been searched and cleared by the massive squad of firefighters. No trace of any kind of deadly gas leaks or any other kind of threat had been found. All smoke detectors had been checked for functionality to find out why none of them had gone off inside the house and only sent the false alert to the security company. They all appeared to be in tip top shape and no one could explain the mass malfunction.  
_

_By ten o'clock that morning, he'd finished his eighth cup of coffee, desperately trying to stay awake while sifting through his mail. Who sent letters anymore anyway? His eyes had drifted aimlessly over the paper until he'd caught sight of the number five hundred thousand. He'd started to read the letter again with a little more focus._

_His jaw had dropped in disbelief. The letter was from the Starling city food bank thanking him for his generous donation of five hundred fucking thousand dollars. He'd immediately called his bank but all they could do was confirm that indeed there had been made a transaction with the same amount._

_What the hell? He'd asked himself for the hundredth time that week._

_Today was Friday, and thank God for it. It was 3pm and, so far, everything had been quiet._

_Just when he leaned back in his office chair his phone rang. After glancing at the caller I.D., he answered, "What's up, Tommy?"_

_"Can you come to the club, like, now?"_

_Oliver closed his eyes in uneasy anticipation of what he knew was coming next. "What´s wrong?"_

_"We may have a problem... or two. Just get here as..." His voice was cut off by a high-pitched ringing sound interrupted by a recorded voice telling him that this was not a drill and to proceed to the nearest exit._

_"Dude, you're okay?" came Tommy's worried voice over the phone._

_"Yeah, it's just the fire alarm. I'll head over to the club once I figure out what the hell is going on here."_

_After making sure everybody on his floor had left their offices, he headed for the stairs where he ran into his mother and Walter who where just as clueless as he was. Thirty floors later, they all stepped out of the lobby and made their way into the plaza in front of the building, joining the rest of QC employees. There were fire trucks and police cars scattered over the whole place, but there was also a black SWAT truck and another unmarked truck closer to the entrance._

_A guy in a dark suit came over to where the three of them were standing. "Mrs. Queen, Mr. Steele, Mr. Queen, I'm Detective Matthews with the SCPD. I was sent to give you an update on the situation."_

_"Are all my employees out?" Walter asked, concern lacing his voice._

_"As far as we can tell, yes. I have officers going around taking down names to compare them to the sign-in logs. It'll take some time, but that way we'll know for sure if everybody is accounted for," the detective assured him._

_"That's a relief," Moira chimed in. "But what in the world happened? I didn't see smoke anywhere and nobody said anything about a fire."_

_"We're currently trying to determine the extent of the damage, Ma'am."_

_"What information can you share with us, Detective?" Walter questioned._

_"We received a call about an explosion of some sort in one of your research labs and the inadvertent release of deadly toxins. After the false alarm at your home last night, we decided to call in reinforcements in case this was part of a larger ploy against your family. We haven't found any signs of an explosion or other chemical accident yet, but the Hazmat team and the SWAT will do a thorough sweep of the building to make sure it's secure, before any of you can re-enter."_

_Oliver tuned out the rest of the conversation, his eyes scanning the crowd of QC employees. He wasn't sure what or rather who he was looking for until his eyes fixed on a familiar face. For a brief moment his body flooded with relief when he saw that Felicity had made it out okay, but then he saw the devilish smirk she shot him._

_She wouldn't have, right?_

_His phone beeped in his pocket. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away from her. He had a text from a blocked number._

**If you can't take the heat, don't start a fire.**

_Son of a..._

_His head jerked back up, eyes frantically searching the spot she'd been standing in moments earlier. She was gone._

_It had been her all along._

_He'd realized quickly that all of the shit that was happening to him simply couldn't be a coincidence, but somehow he hadn't for one second considered that it could be her behind all of it._

_He was such an idiot. She'd basically told him that she'd get revenge after the coffee shop disaster and yet he had totally dismissed her as a potential suspect. He felt the urge to slam his hand against his forehead. She was working in the IT department for crying out loud. That bitch._

_Suddenly, he remembered Tommy's call and couldn't even imagine what she had up her sleeve now. Hastily, he said goodbye to his mother and Walter and ran over to his motorcycle, barely hearing his mother call after him, "Don't forget about dinner tonight at 7!"_

_Twenty minutes later, he pulled up in front of Verdant. Tommy was talking animatedly with two men at the front door._

_"Oliver! Finally," he exclaimed, waving him over. "Maybe you can explain to Mr. Jannis here that we were just checked by the health department two days ago, and to Mr. Kyle that we didn't order three thousand liters of some fancy, fucking expensive German beer. We don't even have fucking beer pumps because we only sell bottled beer, for fuck's sake."_

_The clear frustration in his best friend's voice was more than tangible by this point. Oliver quickly introduced himself and turned to the health inspector. But despite his best efforts, he remained adamant that their system showed that the last inspection had been right before the club had opened. Oliver clenched his teeth, but just nodded resignedly in the end._

_"Tommy can you just show him around. We know that everything is up to scratch, so there shouldn't be any problem." Just keep him away from the foundry, he told his friend with a pointed look._

_"Mr. Kyle, I hear we have quite a few liters of beer that we definitely didn't order that you want to unload on us."_

_"I don't care if you ordered it or not. What you did do is pay for everything, so you either take it or I'll just unload the 60 kegs on the damn street, Mr. Queen."_

_Oliver let out a deep, frustrated sigh. "Do you know anyone who can install a beer pump for us?"_

_Two and a half hours later, the unloading was almost done and once again, they'd managed to keep the health inspector away from the foundry._

_"Hey, man, don't you have another date tonight?" Tommy asked him while they were hauling another 50 liter keg towards the storage room._

_Oliver looked down at his watch. "Shit, I gotta run. You got this?"_

_Tommy nodded and Oliver bolted for where he'd parked his bike earlier. Except, it wasn't there anymore._

_"Hey Tommy," he called back towards the club. "Did you move my bike?"_

_"What? No, of course, I didn't." Tommy emerged from the club entrance._

_"Look, I'm already running late. Can I just take your car?"_

_"Sure thing. Don't scratch it though," he teased and tossed Oliver his keys._

 

_**⁂ ⁂ ⁂** _

 

_After arriving home, he showered in record time and was bolting down the main staircase of the mansion, when he registered his mother's voice._

_"You're late," she remarked disapprovingly. "Our guests are already here."_

_"I know, I'm so sorry. I'll be on my wa... wait what? Our guests are here? I thought I was going on another date?" he asked, confusion written all over his face._

_"You are going on another date. It'll be here and I'll join you," Moira explained calmly._

_"You... you'll be chaperoning me? Look mom, I know that you weren't happy about my last date but this this a little over the top, don't you think?" Oliver quickly tried to amend._

_His mother stepped closer and straightened his tie. "I'm merely here to introduce you to the woman. Her mother and I go way back and have a few things we'd like to discuss while you have dinner."_

_Oliver nodded in defeat and let his mother drag him towards the dining room. This day had already been shitty enough, couldn't get much worse now._

_"Good evening, ladies. I'm so sorry I'm late, but we had some trouble at the..." He turned towards the two women, stopping dead in his tracks. "...club."_

_In front of him stood none other than Felicity. The same Felicity who'd apparently managed to make his week a living hell._

_To his surprise, she didn't mirror his shock, but he quickly realized that she'd probably already had some time to digest the information. That, or she'd known all along that they'd be forced to have dinner together, which would somehow make the past week even worse._

_He plastered on a fake smile and moved to shake Felicity's mother's hand. "Good evening, I'm Oliver."_

_"Donna Smoak, it's very nice too meet you, Oliver. Your mother has told me a lot about you," she said and turned towards Felicity. "And this is my daughter Felicity."_

_He stepped in front of her and held out his hand. She shook it after hesitating for one second. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Felicity. Please excuse my tardiness, I shouldn't have kept you waiting."_

_She gave him a thin-lipped smile. "Don't worry about it. I hope you didn't have too much trouble at your club."_

_"Not at all," he lied smoothly. "Just a miscommunication with a vendor. It was all resolved quickly, but then I seemed to have misplaced my bike."_

_He turned to his mother and her friend, catching them shoot each other meaningful glances. "May I get everybody a drink before dinner?"_

_She hummed in response while their mothers moved towards the bar. "I'd check the police impound," she said in passing, so only he could hear her._

_That smug bitch._

_The conversation was light enough while everybody sipped on their drinks, small talk dominating the room. When Raisa came in to inform them that dinner was ready to be served, Moira and Donna moved towards the doors._

_"We'll leave the two of you to it then. Have fun," Donna said, while following Moira who closed the door behind them._

_"What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked through gritted teeth._

_She merely raised an eyebrow at his little outburst. "It looks like I'm supposed to have dinner with you," she replied and moved over to the dinner table to sit down._

_"You got some nerve showing up here after all the shit you pulled this week," he growled._

_She ignored him and instead moved to pour herself a generous glass of red wine. She took a long sip and sat back in her chair. "No idea what you're talking about."_

_"Cut the crap. You know exactly what I'm talking about. You basically just confessed to it," he accused and moved to sit on the other side of the table._

_"Actually, I just made a suggestion," she said sweetly._

_Two servants came in and plates with salad were placed in front of them, effectively interrupting the conversation._

_"Ooh, this looks good. I hope there are no nuts in there, otherwise..." she made a cutting motion over her throat with her hand._

_"Well, that would solve some problems," Oliver muttered under his breath._

_She cocked her head to the side while placing the napkin on her lap. "Aren't you the epitome of charm tonight." She picked at her plate for a few seconds. "So I assume that you're also clueless as to why we're doing this?"_

_He regarded her for a while, before sighing. "No idea, but I have a bad feeling about this."_

_"Again with the charm. You're on a roll, Queen."_

_They ate in silence for the next five minutes._

_Something was up, he thought wryly. His mother had set up some weird dates in the past few months put this one kind of took the cake._

_It had taken him a few minutes to connect the dots but now he remembered why the name Smoak sounded so familiar. SmoakSolutions specialized in IT stuff as far as he knew and was another one of Starling City's Fortune 500 companies._

_That actually raised an interesting question: why was Felicity working for QC and not her family's company which should naturally offer her more opportunities to put her obvious skills to good use? QC only had a small IT department that was more involved with maintaining the on-site software and hardware than developing actual new products._

_Maybe she was spying on his family's company._

_He looked up from his plate and took a moment to study her. Contrary to their encounters on Monday, today she didn't wear her blonde hair in a tight ponytail. She was wearing it down, light curls framing her face. Once every so often she would bring up her hands and try to secure the locks behind her ear, but they always found a way back down._

_At some point, the servants had brought the main dish out and he was currently witnessing that this woman could eat. He hadn't even touched his plate and she had already finished hers halfway. He quickly cast his eyes down when her lips wrapped around the piece of meat she'd spiked on her fork. How could that simple act even look sexy?_

_She was wearing a navy blue cocktail dress that was hugging her body in just the right way, accentuating her curves perfectly. He noticed that she was wearing only the barest minimum of make-up and almost no jewelry, nothing of value anyways. None of his observations fit in with his typical image of the countless heiresses he's met in his life.  
_

_He was still staring at her when she suddenly looked up, leaving him no time to avert his gaze._

_"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked hastily. "Is there something in my teeth? Did I spill something on my dress? Oh God, I did, didn't I? I swear I'm the worst klutz."_

_Oliver snorted. "Yeah, I can personally attest to that."_

_She shot him a glare. "Watch it, mister. You wouldn't want photos of you pushing around a baby stroller surfacing on the internet. Even though that would conclude your recent scandal very nicely."_

_He merely smirked at her in response. There was apparently more to Felicity Smoak than met the eye. She could be the shy insecure young woman or the almost cocky, confident computer whiz._

_Interesting._

_"Stop looking at me, you're totally creeping me out," she groaned, shooting him another angry glare._

_The corner of his mouth lifted up into a half smile. "Just admiring the view."_

_He instantly wanted to slap himself. Who the hell said something like that? He shouldn't even compliment her and rather focus on the fact the she'd totally fucked up his week with her hacking spree. But to his surprise, his lame comment made her cheeks turn rosy and she quickly focused her eyes on something in her lap, stoically avoiding eye contact._

_This woman really was full of surprises._

_Before he could dwell on her reaction any longer, the doors opened and their mothers walked back in._

_"We thought we'd join you for dessert. That'll give us a chance to talk to you two," Moira explained when she saw Oliver's confused look._

_"Did you get the chance to talk a little bit?" Donna asked, coming up behind Felicity's chair and placing a hand on her bare shoulder. Oliver registered how she flinched away ever so slightly. He furrowed his brow, but didn't question her reaction further, making a mental note about it for a later analysis._

_"Sure," the blonde mumbled in reply. "Oliver's a total gentleman."_

_He cleared his throat. "And your daughter, Mrs. Smoak, is a wonderful woman," he said, lacing his tone with enough admiration to make it sound like they'd actually gotten to know each other and had not just sat there mostly in silence, shooting death glares at each other._

_"Well, that's definitely a relief and will hopefully make this easier."_

_"Make what easier?" Oliver questioned cautiously._

_Moira looked at her friend and after her nod of confirmation, she turned back to her son. "You two are going to marry each other."_

**\- End of flashback -**

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

**⁂ ⁂**

**⁂**

 

The snap of her fingers pulled him out of this memory. She stood a few feet away from him, head tilted lightly to the side with a curious frown on her forehead.

"Are you done daydreaming?"

"Are you done acting like a bitch?" he countered without missing a beat.

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, an unspoken challenge glinting in her eyes. "Nope, still looking forward to getting lucky tonight."

Hearing her words made something snap all over again in his head. In one long stride he ate up the distance between them and crashed his mouth down on hers, holding her head steady with his hands.

For a moment her whole body went still, but then her hands were on his chest and he thought for sure that she would push him away. But once again, she surprised him when she fisted the material of his shirt and drew him even closer, answering his angry kisses with just as much ferocity.

He could count the times that he kissed her on one hand. They'd all happened in public when it was expected of them. They'd all been more reminiscent of short pecks on the lips.

This was completely different. This was months of pent-up anger and frustration coming to a head. From both sides. Making for one epic clash.

Her hands had found their way to the nape of his neck, tugging hard on his hair. But he was only fired on by the delicious jolt of pain it caused him. One of his hands moved from her face over her shoulder, down her back until it cupped her ass. He massaged her perfectly formed behind and brought down his second hand when she moaned loudly in response.

She nipped at his bottom lip, provoking a low groan from him. Her tongue immediately darted out to sooth the pain, flicking over his lightly swollen lips.

God, this woman would be the death of him.

He backed her against the door again, trapping her body with his. But even that wasn't enough. His hands crept lower, down to the hem of her dress, pushing it up further.

He needed her closer, wanted to feel her body pressed to his. His hands found the back of her thighs and lifted her up with no effort.

He couldn't suppress the loud moan that escaped his mouth when she immediately wrapped her legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass, while her hips moved sensuously against his growing erection.

If she kept that up, this session would end embarrassingly quickly, he thought and pushed one of his hands between their bodies, sneaking its way under the material of her dress and finding the flimsy fabric of her underwear.

Her hands weren't idle either. After one last hard yank on his hair, she moved down to tug his shirt out of his pants. Soon enough, restless fingers found their way under his shirt, flitting over every inch of his stomach and chest, her finger nails scratching lightly over his skin.

She moaned loudly when his fingers skimmed over the wet center of her lace thong. Oliver tore his lips away from hers and refocused his attention on her neck. Nipping at her smooth skin with his teeth before soothing the pain with relentless strokes of his tongue.

"ты моя," he mumbled against her skin at the same moment that he plunged one long finger into her. _[You're mine.]_

Her body instinctively bucked into his hand, willing him to move with the roll of her hip, while her mouth found his shoulder, biting down through the fabric of his shirt in a vain attempt to stifle her loud moan.

One of her hands found the nape of his neck again, scratching over his scalp, while her other hand drifted lower on his stomach until she found the waistband of his pants.

"ты моя," he growled over and over again with every thrust of his finger.

He could tell she was close to the edge by how her fingers lost all sense of coordination when she was fumbling with his belt and the button of his pants. Just when she finally managed to slide her hand into his pants, cupping his erection through his boxer briefs with her small hand, a shrill ring tone made both of them stop dead in their tracks.

Still breathing heavily, she let her head fall back against the door behind her. She let go of his erection and braced both of her hands flat on his chest, heat spreading from them like a wildfire.

The reality of the situation suddenly crashed into him. He pulled his finger out of her wet confines, ignoring the almost inaudible whimper she let out at the loss of contact. He sat her back down on shaky legs, pressing his body into hers against the door for a full minute until he was sure she could stand on her own.

When both of their breathing had slowed down, he finally turned his head to look at her. A million different emotions were swirling through her blue orbs.

It took him another long moment to eventually take a step back. He raked a hand through his short hair, trying not to remember the feeling of her delicate fingers on his skin.

This wasn't supposed to happen. They hated each other.

Right?

He shook his head slightly in an attempt to clear his mind. "This... was a mistake," he whispered, hating how wrong those words felt on his tongue.

It was the quick flash of pure hurt and surprise crossing her face that made him reconsider his assessment. He could actually see how she pushed all those conflicting feelings away and put a mask of indifference in their place.

She nodded jerkily, straightened her rumpled clothes and hair before turning towards the door. When her hand landed on the door handle, she turned back around, her facial expression closed off and feisty as usual.

"Oh, by the way," she looked down at his pants that were still undone. "The tabloids had me believing you'd be a big boy. I'm a little disappointed."

Before he could counter anything, the door had already shut behind her.

Once again, he shook his head, a little disbelieving smile playing on his lips. Only Felicity would take a moment to insult him after what had just happened.

He quickly got his clothes back in order and reached for his cell phone, the same one that had interrupted them a few minutes earlier. He sighed when he saw what time it was. He'd planned to meet Diggle down in the foundry half an hour ago which is probably why he called.

He quickly dialed his number. "Hey, Digg, I'm on my way now."

"Actually, I wanted to tell you that I'm not coming. Carly is sick and asked me if A.J. could stay at my place for the weekend so he won't catch whatever she has," Diggle said apologetically.

"No problem, I'll go out alone. Did you finish the research on the next target?"

"That's actually one thing I wanted to talk to you about."

"What's up?"

"I think we crossed off most, if not all, of the smaller targets on the list. The ones we could easily find information on, even with our limited computer skills, but I've definitely reached the end of my rope here. To find useful information on the bigger fish, that isn't heavily redacted or encrypted, we need help from someone who can circumvent those obstacles." Diggle sighed and continued cautiously, "Luckily, we know someone who could help with all that."

Oliver growled, knowing exactly what his partner is suggesting. "No, I'm not pulling her into this."

"She's the best and you know it. This past week proves that."

"I'm not putting her in danger."

Diggle let out a chuckle. "And you were trying to convince me that you don't care about her."

"Diggle," Oliver warned.

"Right, look, we can keep her away from the dangerous part. You could contact her as The Hood and ask her for help. If she can put together information packages on the targets, we can handle the rest without letting her anywhere close to the action."

Oliver considered his friends idea for a moment. Yes, Felicity was definitely the best he knew when it came to everything computer related, but could he bring her in on his crusade? Could he mix his two lives like that?

"Just think about it, man. We'll be moving in circles if we don't get some help," Diggle encouraged him. "I gotta go check on A.J., see you on Monday."

Oliver bid his friend goodbye and leaned against the wall. This could possibly change everything. He wanted to make progress on the list but at what cost?

Diggle was right. They'd caught all the smaller fish from the list, skipping more prominent names in the process whenever they hit a dead end during their research.

He could still go after them and try to scare information out of them, but there were no guarantees that that would get him anywhere. It had been nine months of crossing names off the list, and yet he still had no idea what connected them all, apart from being members of Starling City's elite. He still didn't know what wrongs his father wanted him to right. This couldn't all be about companies embezzling money or business men making other questionable choices, could it?

With those thoughts in mind he made his way down to the foundry. Even if he didn't have a specific target, he could still go out and keep an eye on what was happening in the city.

His phone chimed, indicating a new email. When he swiped over his phone, he realized that it wasn't just one, but two dozen emails. All of them offering him different pills, creams or surgeries to "lengthen his length", as well as some invitations to support groups for "men with other qualities".

He barked out a disbelieving laugh. God, his wife was unbelievable.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

He finally went home when the sun was almost coming up. He'd worked out and patrolled the city all night, stopping a few muggings and car-jackings from happening. When he pulled up in front of the mansion on his bike, he saw an unfamiliar car parked in the driveway.

Maybe Thea was having some friends sleep over. As long as it wasn't Roy, he didn't care.

He quietly made his way through the dark corridors of the mansion towards the east wing. When he rounded the last corner, laughter drifted through the deserted hallway. Suddenly, a door was yanked open and he quickly stepped back around the corner, disappearing into the shadows of a little alcove.

"You know you could totally stay, right?" Felicity's voice carried over to where he was hidden in the darkness.

A man laughed. "Yeah, no, I think I'd rather leave."

"Afraid I'll steal the blanket during the night?" He could hear the amusement in her voice.

"While we both know that that happens every single time we sleep together, that's not the reason," the man countered teasingly.

"Then what is?"

"Your husband. I'm pretty sure he'd kill me if he saw me here." He was interrupted by a snort.

"Oh please, my dearest husband doesn't give a flying shit about what I do," Felicity scoffed.

"Still," the man insisted. "I better get going. But, Lis, this was the best night in a long time. I forgot how good you were at this."

"Ha! I told you to never underestimate the sheer talent of my fingers," she teased. "But I gotta admit that you've gotten better over the years. That one trick you showed me totally rocked my world. I never even knew I could do that."

The man laughed again. "Well, I had to do something against your talented little fingers before they finished me for good."

"And don't you forget it," Felicity giggled. "Come on, I'll show you out."

They passed the nook that Oliver was hidden in without spotting him. His breath halted for a moment when he saw who the man was.

Wannabe McConaughey.

Oliver felt his heart sink. She'd actually taken another man home.

She'd cheated on him in his own fucking house. On his birthday.

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title translation: Where there's smoke, there's fire.


	3. Optimum est pati quod emendare non possis

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂ June 2013 ⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

Late on a Friday night, Felicity was sitting in her small office in QC's IT department. She'd finished her day's workload hours ago, but had started to write a line of code to fix a bug. Ten minutes turned into an hour and then two, and before she knew it, everybody else had gone home, leaving all the offices around hers plunged into darkness.

At around ten, she got up and went to the small kitchen that was nestled into the corner of the IT floor, not even bothering to turn the lights on. She let her mind wander for a second. Away from the ones and zeroes, and towards her private life.

It had been a weird month.

Not that her life resembled anything even remotely close to normal this past half a year or so. But still, ever since Oliver's birthday last month, things had been especially tense. Well, that was in the few moments they'd actually spent together.

Oliver had avoided her like the plague. In those few occasions that they'd been in the same room, he'd fixed her with a cold stare or avoided eye contact entirely.

She could tell that even people around them had picked up on his odd antics, judging by the disapproving and confused glares Moira and Thea shot him whenever he snapped at Felicity for no apparent reason.

His behavior left her even more unsure of everything that'd happened in Verdant's storage room. While it had definitely been a surprise when it'd happened, she simply couldn't ignore the undeniable chemistry she'd felt when he'd kissed her. Couldn't forget the taste of him, the feeling of his lips against her neck, or his fingers that had brought her oh so close to tumbling right over the edge.

A shiver ran through her body and she gripped the counter to steady herself, hating the effect he had on her even this long after it'd happened.

In all honesty, she simply didn't know what to make of all of it, the spark between them, his distant and downright rude behavior. She didn't know how to handle it.

At the time, she'd resorted to snark because that was what she was occasionally good at, at least when she managed to cut herself off before she could start an epic ramble. The comment about his manhood had been a low blow (pun intended), even she couldn't refute that fact. But it had been her way of protecting herself, of downplaying their encounter and the feelings it'd stirred in her.

To be honest, his words had stung. Sure, it had definitely _not_ been an ideal situation, especially after months of hating each other. But when he'd said it was a mistake, she'd felt like he'd punched her right in the stomach.

“Felicity Queen?” A distorted voice asked from behind her and made her jump two feet in the air.

She whirled around, grabbing the next best thing to use as a weapon, which happened to be... a frying pan.

Could've been worse, she thought wryly, trying to channel her inner Rapunzel.

She looked up to finding herself face to hidden face with Starling City's resident vigilante.

Holy shit.

“Don't come any closer,” she said. And wow, could her voice sound any more terrified?

The Hood lifted a hand slowly, stretching it out towards her. “I'm not going to hurt you, Felicity,” he said in what she assumed was supposed to be a reassuring tone.

“Excuse me if I don't take your word for it,” she countered, moving a cautious step back until her butt bumped into the counter.

Then she narrowed her eyes in suspicion, fear flying momentarily out of the window. “How do you know my name?” Her face fell. “Oh God, are you here to tell me I've failed this city like all those other rich people in Starling? Because I totally didn't.”

She tilted her head to the side. “I mean, I don't think I did. I'm actually trying to help people whenever I can and be nice to everybody.” She considered her defense for a second, maybe honesty would gain her some mercy. “Well, with the exception of my husband because he's a total dick to me, especially lately. Hey, maybe you could visit _him_.”

She trailed off and waited for a response that didn't come immediately. For a second, she felt like patting herself on the back because apparently she'd managed to render the intimidating green guy in front of her speechless. That couldn't happen too often, could it?

“I did my homework on you, Felicity. I'm here because you have something that I need,” The Hood finally said and Felicity couldn't help but feel that despite the voice modulator there was something familiar about his voice or maybe just his speech pattern.

“You know, just because my last name is Queen doesn't mean that I have a shitload of money that you can extort from me and give to the poor. In fact, I'm pretty sure if you knew how much I actually earned here, you'd want to give _me_ someone else's money.”

The Hood opened and closed his mouth once, before saying, “I don't want your money. I want your help.”

She finally lowered the pan. “My help? You do realize that I have no archery skills whatsoever. By the way, bow and arrow, _really_? Fanboying much over Katniss?”

“Who?”

She gaped at him. “Have you been living under a rock for the last 5 years?”

Even in the semi darkness, she could see how he clenched his jaw, and could feel the growing frustration rolling off of him in waves.

“Right,” she amended. “Not helping. What do you need?”

“Whatever you can salvage from this,” he said and produced a laptop out of thin air.

She moved towards him, but stopped dead in her tracks when he raised the hand that was holding the bow. Without saying anything he left the kitchen and went straight to her office. She followed him cautiously, deciding it was safer to take the frying pan with her. Just in case.

When she entered her office, the laptop was already sitting on her desk while The Hood was standing in the far corner, slightly turned away from her.

She rounded her desk and plopped down into her chair, making sure to place the pan within arm's reach, before she took a closer look at the laptop.

“Uh, what the hell happened to this poor baby?” she questioned, furrowing her eyebrows.

“I spilled a latte on it,” he deadpanned.

Felicity tilted her head to the side. “Really? 'Cause I happen to know what that looks like because my dimwit of a husband once killed one of my babies that way. But this,” she pointed her pen at the damaged hardware. “looks _nothing_ like it.”

She heard an exasperated huff coming from the corner and decided to start working while he wasn't intent on killing her.

For the next few minutes, she worked on retrieving any information she could find on the fried laptop's hard drive.

“There's actually not much on here except for some heavily encrypted files. This could take a while,” she looked up from her screen and motioned to the chair in front of her desk. “You might wanna sit down.”

She leaned back in her chair, looking at him more closely, while her decryption software was working its magic. In the dim light of her office she could still make out the dark green color of his clothes.

“How can you even move in that?” she asked, before her brain could stop her. “I mean, I wore leather pants once and wow, never again. Even though that might have been because it was one of those cheap slutty biker chick customs on Halloween.” She stopped when The Hood let out a strangled noise.

“Anyways, I never understood how guys could wear them with their... additional anatomical parts. Doesn't it hurt or like chafe... down there?” She motioned vaguely in the direction of his crotch.

Even in the semi darkness she could see his jaw set tightly. “Riiight, you know what, I'm gonna stop talking about your... man parts... and looking at them.”

“I would prefer that,” came his tight-lipped reply.

Felicity tapped her pencil against the desk, while they were silent for a few minutes. She really wasn't good with silence.

“Why do you use a bow?” she questioned suddenly. “Aren't there more efficient weapons out there?”

There was no answer.

“And you can carry what? Like twenty arrows, maybe? And then what? If you were using a gun you could at least carry a few extra magazines, right? Not that I know anything about guns,” she amended.

“Plus, it looks utterly ridiculous to me,” she finished and looked up from her pen, realizing what she just said. “Please don't kill me.”

He chuckled. The ridiculously intimidating and lethal Hood actually chuckled.

“I won't kill you.”

She considered his response for a moment and then grew serious, a troubling thought hitting her. “Are you going to kill whoever this laptop belonged to or is that person already dead?”

“He's not dead.”

“Yet, you mean. Look, I just... If I give you whatever I find on this laptop, you'll go put in arrow in someone, right?” She scrambled for the right words. “I'm... not particularly eager to find out what it's like to be an accessory to murder. I don't know if you care about this because according to the police reports you've killed a lot of people, but I do care. I don't think I could live with myself knowing that I helped you kill someone.”

“Turn off the lamp,” The Hood said and stepped out of the corner, stopping right in front of her desk, once she'd turned it off.

Despite the distorted voice, his tone seemed softer than before. “I have killed a lot of men, but I can assure you that they deserved it.” He held up a hand to stop her objection. “I don't kill for fun, Felicity. I do what is necessary to save this city.”

“If telling yourself that lets you sleep at night,” she muttered under her breath and then louder, “And what gives you the right to decide who deserves to live and who deserves to die?”

Deep down, she knew that she probably shouldn't agitate the man, but Felicity couldn't help herself. There were too many questions when it came to this vigilante, too many unknown variables. He was a complete mystery. She hated mysteries. They needed to be solved.

“You're a remarkable woman, Felicity,” he said after a beat, amazement lacing his voice.

She furrowed her brows, but couldn't hide the blush that crept up her cheeks. “You sound surprised. I thought you did your homework on me?” she teased, biting her bottom lip.

“Apparently, I wasn't thorough enough,” he replied.

She grinned at him before returning her gaze to the computer screen. “Look, this will take a few hours to decrypt. I can set it up so that it sends the files to my personal laptop when it's done. Or you can give me an email address and I can send it directly to you,” she suggested innocently.

She saw the ever so slight curl of his lips. “So you can trace my location? I don't think so. How about...” he was interrupted by her cell phone ring tone which just happened to be the chorus of Rihanna's S&M.

She scrambled to reach her purse. “Shit,” she cursed while Rihanna told them that chains and whips excited her.

Without having to look at the caller ID she knew it'd be her best friend.

“I'll be quick,” she said towards The Hood, not daring to look at him, a mortified blush blooming on her cheeks.

“Hey Jen,” she answered her phone. “What's up?”

“I wanna get drunk with you, like right now. Where are you?” Her best friend's voice sounded loudly over the phone.

“Still at the office. I'm actually kinda busy.”

“Ooooh, please tell me you're having hot office sex with your highly fuckable husband?” she demanded to know.

Felicity rolled her eyes and let out an annoyed huff. “No, Jen, I'm most definitely not having hot office sex with my “highly fuckable husband”,” she replied using air quotes.

She saw The Hood shuffle from one foot to the other in front of her desk. Oops, right, there was someone else in the room who probably didn't want to know about her lack of a healthy sex life with her husband... Awwwwkward.

Once again, she couldn't do anything about the blush creeping up her cheeks. Luckily, it was almost completely dark in her office, safe for the fluorescent light coming from her computer screen.

“Look, I really am busy right now. But I know James is in town again and from my latest experience with him at Oliver's party I can verify that he hasn't lost any of his good time qualities. How about you call him for tonight and we'll all meet for hangover breakfast tomorrow morning?”

“You're no fun, but I'll take breakfast if you get me some scoop on your hunky husband's bed room skills.”

Felicity groaned. “Goodbye, Jen, I'll text you the details about breakfast,” she said and quickly ended the call.

She pursed her lips. “Sorry about that. You were saying?”

He shook his head lightly and put a phone on her desk. “Give me a call when the search is done. Don't waste your time on trying to find anything on it.” He was already at the door, but turned towards her again. “You should go home. Thank you for your help, Felicity.”

Felicity stared at the open door. If it weren't for the bullet ridden laptop in front of her, she would've assumed that this had been a dream. A really weird dream.

But it wasn't a dream. Starling City's vigilante had come to her office to get her help and he'd even looked into her background before contacting her. She wasn't quite sure how she felt about the fact that he'd been able to dig up personal information about her life so easily. She definitely needed to look into that.

Another thing she couldn't quite pinpoint was whether to be proud that out of all the IT specialists in Starling he'd chosen her to confide in, or if she should be terrified by it.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

The next morning, Felicity was swiping over her tablet, reading the news while waiting in a corner booth of her favorite diner for her friends. She was just about to resume her game of Candy Crush when an article caught her eye. 'Vigilante involved in another murder' the title read. Apparently, The Hood had been at the scene of crime when a man, called James Holder, had been killed... last night.

Holy shit. He'd probably come to her just  after that had happened. She scrunched up her forehead. Something didn't fit though.

The article placed the time of the incident at quarter past 8. The Hood had visited her at around 10. So he hadn't come directly to her. Interesting.

“Please tell me that you're not one of those chicks that have a crush on the vigilante,” a voice sounded from behind her that almost made her drop her tablet.

People seriously had to stop sneaking up on her.

Jen plopped down in the seat opposite of her. “Oh my God, you do have a crush on him,” she exclaimed surprised.

“No, I don't. Why would you even say that? And where's James?”

“He had a better offer,” she said and winked at Felicity. “And I'm saying that because you just blushed like you always do when there's something you don't want to tell me?!” her friend pointed out.

Felicity brought up her hands to cover her traitorous cheeks. “You're probably still drunk,” she mumbled.

Jen just laughed. “That's probably true.” She thanked the waitress who brought her coffee before continuing, “Anyways, speaking about hot mysterious guys. How's you're hubby? Any chance we'll see you two in public in the foreseeable future?”

Felicity groaned, not just because of the question, but also because she actually did have to make a public appearance with Oliver soon. Very soon. “Can you turn off the reporter mode for just one hour?”

“Oh please, I have front row seats to the most talked about marriage in Starling City and you won't give me any exclusive scoops. That's not exactly best friend behavior,” she accused teasingly. “You never did tell me why you rushed into this whole thing. I mean, you knew each other for like 4 months before you tied the knot and you're adamant that you don't have Queen's bun in the oven. So what's up with that?”

“That's between me and him. Just drop it, Jen,” she pleaded with her friend.

She regarded her blonde friend for a few seconds before nodding. “Fine, but one of these days I _will_ find out.”

She was probably right. Felicity had never met a person that was as persistent as her best friend. She'd definitely found the right profession when she started out in journalism. Once she latched onto an interesting topic, she was like a dog with a bone.

For now, Felicity was glad that she hadn't found out about the real nature of her marriage yet. She wasn't quite sure what repercussions their friendship would suffer from that knowledge.

Once again, she felt like cursing her mother. She was the only damn reason why she was in a situation where she was forced to lie to her best friend and the general public.

 

 **⁂**  
**⁂ ⁂**  
**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**  
**\- January 2013 -**

 

_So, that had been an... interesting first date._

_Had she known how it would end, she'd never have agreed to accompany her mother to this 'business dinner'. But her mother had been her disapproving, lying and deceiving self, so in the end, Felicity had caved._

_That had been her first mistake._

_Her second mistake had been not realizing where they were going until she was standing on the opulent front step of the Queen Mansion and her mother was ringing the door bell. At that point, there had been no going back._

_Her third mistake had been being nice to Oliver, at least in front of their mothers. Maybe they would've seen that this whole idea was absolutely ridiculous if they'd known that they actually despised each other._

_Her final mistake had been not saying anything. She should've protested, should've told them how incredibly insane their idea was. But she hadn't. She'd stood there next to her future husband, completely and utterly shell-shocked. Too shocked to find any words to object the proposal._

_Not_  his _proposal. That would apparently follow in a very public setting in a few weeks time._

_“You're quiet,” her mother observed from the seat next to her in the town car that was bringing her home._

_No shit, Captain Obvious, Felicity thought grimly._

_“What do you want me to say?,” she asked out loud instead._

_“How do you feel about this?”_

_Felicity turned to her mother and shot her an incredulous look. “Are you kidding me?_ Now _you ask me how I feel?_ After _you just auctioned me off to the highest fucking bidder?”_

_“Watch your language, Felicity,” Donna scolded her. “And don't be so dramatic, there was no auctioning going on, this is a business deal.”_

_“No, mother, this is my_ life _,” Felicity retorted without missing a beat. “I don't_ want _to marry Oliver and since we're not living in the freaking middle ages, I_ won't _marry him.”_

_“Yes, you will. There's nothing to discuss here, the decision has been made and you'll do what is asked of you.”_

_“What makes you think that after trying to force your decisions on me my entire life that now is the time you'll finally succeed?”_

_“Because without this marriage we'll lose the company,” Donna admitted angrily._

_Felicity stared at her mother. “What?”_

_Her mother sighed. “We're in acute financial trouble. Without Queen Consolidated's investment in us we will be bankrupt within the year.”_

_“How's that possible?”_

_“It just is.”_

_“That is_ not _an acceptable answer. If you really expect me to do this, you owe me at least a decent explanation,” Felicity demanded determinedly._

_“I...,“ Donna started. “A few investments overseas didn't pan out as we expected and I was just informed today that there is a severe flaw in our new banking software. We'll most likely be facing a multi-billion dollar class action lawsuit for the security hole in it.”_

_Felicity interrupted her, “You mean the security flaw_ I _told you about six months ago? When you told me that I wasn't supposed to stick my nose where it didn't belong even though I was able to hack into our company's network and download the new software without even breaking a sweat?”_

_“Don't give me that attitude, young lady. Mistakes have been made and now we have to face the consequences.”_

_“No, mother._ I _have to face the consequences. Because_ you _are unable to sort out the mess that_ you _made,” she accused._

_“I tried. I've gone to virtually every company in the western hemisphere, proposing mergers, even offering the company for sale. But no one wants to come near us, no bank will give us credits. This is the only chance,” her mother responded and there was something akin to desperation in her voice._

_Felicity absorbed the information for a minute, her mind racing. “What's in it for the Queens? If we're such a bad investment, why would they take the risk? Or rather, why don't they just invest in us without the marriage stuff?”_

_“We hold valuable patents and some of our products in the development stage are promising, but they're far from finished and we simply don't have the resources to complete the development.” Donna sighed again. “Moira and I have been friends for a long time and one night she mentioned that she was looking for someone to settle down with Oliver.”_

_“And you thought you'd just offer me as payment so they'd swoop in and clean up your mess?”_

_“If you don't marry him we'll lose the company. We're talking about our family's legacy here. And now it's your responsibility to save it.”_

_Felicity turned away, staring out the window._

_She couldn't believe her mother would treat her like this. That she would put this burden, this mountain of responsibilities on her shoulders._

_Then again, she was talking about her mother. She should've known that she'd do anything to save face._

_“How much did you lose?” she asked her mother whose questioning look made her elaborate. “You said you made bad investments. How much money did you lose?”_

_“Felicity,” her mother warned._

_“How much?”_

_“Billions.”_

_“You have like twenty business advisers, how could you possibly make a deal that would cost us billions?” Felicity asked incredulously._

_“It happened. What more do you want?” Her mothers voice turned angry again._

_“I want to not be forced to marry Oliver Queen.”_

_“Why not? It could be much worse. He's rich, in his prime, good-looking. What more could you ask for?”_

_“Love?!”_

_Donna let out that condescending laugh that she'd perfected years ago and that always catapulted Felicity back into her childhood when she'd told her mother about her hopes and dreams and she managed to crush them with a well-timed ”don't be silly, Felicity, you'll never do that”._

_“Honey, you always were a dreamer.” Yup, there was the condescension. “It's time to wake up and face the real world.”_

_“Except, the Oliver Queens of this world normally wouldn't even consider someone like me. Have you looked at him? He's so far out of my like that we're not even playing the same sport.”_

_“Which is why I expected you to jump at this. You'll never find anyone better,” Donna pointed out. “Maybe he'll conquer your heart.”_

_“The only thing he'll do with my heart is break it,” Felicity murmured._

_Her mother huffed in annoyance. “You're an adult now with obligations, it's about time you started acting like it.”_

_Felicity swallowed down the snide remark that was on the tip of her tongue. No reason to make this even worse._

_“You want me to act like an adult? Fine. If, and boy, that's a big if, I do this, I have some conditions of my own,” Felicity ground out between clenched teeth._

_Her mother regarded her with a patronizing smile. “Such as?”_

_“I want you out.”_

_“Out of what?” Donna asked, a frown forming on her forehead._

_“Out of everything. The company and, more importantly, my life. I don't want to have anything to do with you, if, and once again that's a very big if, I agree to this. And Oliver and I would have the last word on anything that ends up in our pre-nup. Plus, I want to sit down with Moira and talk about the business side of this because clearly I can't trust your judgment on that.” Her mother opened her mouth to protest. “No! This is non-negotiable.”_

_The car pulled over and a glance outside told Felicity they'd reached her home. Without another word, she got out of the car, relieved to see that her mother didn't follow her._

_She slammed the front door shut with a resounding 'bang' and slid down against it. What the hell had just happened?_

_Her mother was notorious for shitty ideas, but this one topped them all. Marrying off her only daughter to complete a business deal? Yeah, that definitely had to score her the 'worst mother of the year' award._

_Felicity stared at the palms of her hand, for the first time registering the slight tremble. Was she seriously thinking about going through with this?_

_She'd set those conditions for her mother, but could she actually marry a man that she despised, just to save her family's company from bankruptcy?_

_She loved the company and what it stood for: cutting edge IT innovations. Her grandfather had been among the computer engineers who had developed the ARPANET, the early predecessor of the internet. He'd been a visionary. Right before he'd died 10 years ago, he'd told her that one day she would be the one to lead the company._

_He was the reason why she loved computers and everything around them. What motivated her to solve the mysteries that lay hidden behind all those ones and zeroes._

_Could she honestly just stand by and watch the company that he'd built on nothing more than visionary thinking, crash and burn because she was too proud and too stoic to marry a guy who held the key to saving her grandfather's legacy?_

**-End of flashback -**

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**  
**⁂ ⁂**  
**⁂**

 

“You're thinking about him, aren't you?”

Felicity blinked a few times. “Huh?”

“Oliver. You had that distant look where you seem to be a million miles away,” Jen explained.

“Uh, no, I was just...”

“Daydreaming about your hunky hubby?” she teased.

“Can you just drop it?” Felicity snapped back.

But her friend took it in stride. “You seem a little frustrated. Is Oliver not keeping you satisfied?”

Felicity glared at the brunette woman.

“Come on, Smoaky. Is he a sex god or not?”

She couldn't help but blush. How the hell was she supposed to know?

“You know, one girl once said that he fucked her so thoroughly that she couldn't sit down for a week,” Jen taunted.

“Yeah, and pigs can fly,” Felicity said under her breath and then louder, “Isn't the weather beautiful today?”

Jen barked out a laugh. “Subtle, Smoaky. When did you turn into such a prude? No wonder there are already rumors about him cheating on you floating around. Men like Oliver Queen like their women direct and spicy. That innocent 'deer caught in the headlight' behavior that you're so good at will wear off soon enough and then what's keeping him from fucking the last ten percent of women in Starling City he hasn't screwed yet?”

Felicity stared at her friend in shock, eyes wide and one hand suspended in mid air, having completely forgotten what she'd wanted to do.

“What?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Jen's eyes went wide in realization. “Oh my God, that is not... I didn't... Felicity, I'm sorry!” She reached over to grab her friend's hands, but Felicity pulled away from her.

“Please, you have to believe me. I did not mean that! That was the bitchy mean drunk coming through because apparently she still has way too much fuel from last night. I am sorry I said that.”

“Out loud.”

“What?”

“You're sorry that you said it out loud. Be honest, Jen, you've been itching to get the exclusive on the reason behind our marriage since the day I told you about our engagement,” Felicity said, voice dangerously low.

“Felicity...”

“No. You're a smart woman and this is simple math, right? One Oliver Queen plus one Felicity Smoak does not equal undying and everlasting love. It's like trying to add two different variables. It just doesn't _work_. So tell me, Jen, what's your working theory, huh? What's Oliver's reason to marry me? Am I blackmailing him? Did I slip him some sort of love potion while he wasn't looking? Did I simply hit him over the head and make him forget all about his one and true love Laurel Lance?”

She was getting more furious by the second, her voice gaining volume. “Because in what twisted version of this world would someone like Oliver Queen possibly have any interest in some nerdy, awkward IT gremlin like me, right? Because that is _seriously_ unthinkable, isn't it?”

She cocked her head to the side, when she spoke, her voice was now closer to a whisper again. “And that crack about cheating was a fucking low blow and you know it.” She stood up quickly, feeling the tears well behind her eyes. “You're paying for coffee. Don't call me in the next few days.”

She hastily gathered her things and practically ran to the door, unable to keep the tears at bay any longer.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

The drive back to the mansion was a tearful one. More than once she had to pull over and take a few minutes to calm her erratic breaths before she felt like she could drive again.

Obviously, this wasn't just about her friend's hurtful and ill-timed remarks. No, it was about herself and how she felt about everything that was going on. About how her insecurities and the nagging feeling of inadequacy that dated back to any given day of her childhood, always managed to get the better of her.

She wasn't stupid. She knew how her marriage to Oliver looked to the outside world and, like she'd said earlier, it just didn't add up. There was no logical explanation for the existence of their relationship.

By now, she'd like to think that she was used to the dirty looks she got every day at work. Would like to believe that she didn't care and wasn't affected by them. Of course, that was far from the truth. It took all of the will power she could muster to not curl up into a ball and cry her eyes out every night.

When she finally arrived at the mansion, she hurried through the empty corridors, glad that she didn't encounter anyone. That would certainly be the icing on the cake if any of the staff saw her like this.

Just when she reached her bedroom door, Oliver's door swung open and she saw herself face to face with her husband.

“Oliver,” she breathed out, mentally debating how awful she looked right now. “Hey.”

He regarded her with a cold stare, eyes sweeping over her. For a millisecond she thought that she saw a worried frown on his features when he took in her tear stained face, but after after blink, the supposed worry was replaced by indifference.

“Sorry about this,” she whispered, motioning vaguely to her face. “Just had a crappy morning.” Wait, why the hell was she explaining herself to him?

He let out a snort. “What? Did your boyfriend break up with you?” His voice was dripping with hatred.

Completely caught off guard, she took a step back, blinking rapidly. “I... what?”

“Your boyfriend,” he repeated, taking a step forward, towering over her smaller body. “The one you fucked on my birthday.”

“I... did what?”

“The blonde guy you brought back here and fucked into the wee hours of the next morning,” he clarified through clenched teeth, putting his hands at both sides of her head, trapping her against the wall the same way he'd done back at Verdant. “The guy you cheated on me with in _my_ house.”

Her face fell when she realized what he was talking about.

“ _That's_ why you were even more of an asshole these last few weeks?” Was the first thing that came to her mind. “Because you think I cheated on you?”

“I don't think. I _know_ ,” he ground out. “I saw him leave, heard you talk about your night together.”

She scrambled through her brain to try and remember what she had said to James that night or rather morning.

Meanwhile, Oliver let out a humorless chuckle. “It's funny, isn't it? Everybody expected manwhore Oliver Queen to be the one to cheat on you and then it turns out that _you're_ the whore who cheated on me.”

A resounding slap echoed trough the hallway and it took Felicity five full seconds to realize that she'd just slapped Oliver.

Her eyes grew wide in pure terror, while his were glazed with utter surprise. She hated violence and now she'd resorted to just that to reply to his insensible insult.

But her shock was soon replaced by the unfiltered rage surging through her body. The hand that until now had been suspended mid-air post-slap found a better purpose in pressing against his chest. Hard. But once again, he didn't budge at all. Damn him and his shitload of muscles.

“Back off, Oliver,” she hissed. “And leave me the _fuck_ alone.”

“So you can go out and fuck other guys?”

“I didn't fuck anyone, Oliver!” she practically screamed at him, not sure why she felt the need to get this point across to him. She didn't owe him anything, least of all an explanation for something that didn't even happen. Something that would never happen.

“I saw you,” he repeated, but this time there was a hint of doubt mixed into his voice.

“What you saw were two friends after having a great night catching up on each other's lives. We spend most of the night talking and trying to hack each other's systems. And no, that is _not_ some weird nerd code for anything sexual.”

“But...”

“There's no but, Oliver,” she cut in firmly, anger rising in her chest once again. “This may be your thing, but I don't do cheating. I hate cheating. I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of it and it's one of the worst fucking feelings in the world. So, no, I did not cheat on you. I won't cheat on you.”

“Then why the hell did you push for the damn dating other people agreement?” he roared.

She let out a humorless chuckle. “God, you just don't get it, do you? Dating and sleeping with someone are two completely different things. I wanted that agreement because I don't want to be stuck with _you_ for the rest of my life.”

For a split second she saw a flicker of hurt cross over his face which was quickly replaced by a smug grin.

What the hell?

“So basically, you're telling me,” he said slowly and stepped closer to her, “that you never had any intention of sleeping with another guy that night and you're just the biggest fucking tease in the world? And maybe,” he drawled out smugly, “you're just getting off on getting a rile out of me.”

She swallowed hard. Could you believe him? His assumption was so ridiculous...ly close to the truth, it was maddening.

Did she get off on getting a rile out of him? No! Maybe a little?

She thought there was something so fucking erotic about his anger that she seriously considered talking to a shrink about it.

The way his whole body tensed, the way his jaw set, and the way he could make her name sound like a prayer and a curse at the same time. Even the way he tried to intimidate her by straightening his shoulders and backing her into any available obstacle. The way his eyes grew several shades darker, more dangerous, whenever she held her ground against him.

Okay, yeah, she was totally turned on by Angry Oliver. But Jealous Oliver was even hotter. The unfiltered possessiveness she'd seen in his eyes and the way he'd clung to her body when they'd had their storage room encounter. The way his teeth and lips tried (and successfully so) to mark her as his.

So, had she purposely taunted him about going home with another man on his birthday to provoke a reaction? Maybe.

An involuntary shudder rocked her body at the simple thought of that night.

By the smug grin on Oliver's face, he'd felt it, too. At once, he moved both his hands from where they were trapping her against the wall, sliding down her back until they rested on her ass. He gave her a hard squeeze, pulling her into his body and oh...

She swallowed the moan that threatened to escape her and curled her lips into a smug grin of her own.

“Looks like I'm not the only one getting off on these situation,” she whispered, bringing one hand down to grab his belt, pulling him closer, if that was even possible, to feel his erection pressing into her stomach.

She could see his Adam's apple move up and down as he swallowed hard, his eyes taking on that darker shade that she found only slightly attractive, as he focused his gaze on her lips.

His head moved closer but turned slightly so that the short hairs of his beard scratched over her cheek while his hot breath fanned over the shell of her ear. And oh dear God, just the thought of that delicious scratch on... other parts of her body, almost made her brain implode.

“Я хочу тебя,” he murmured into her ear, his lips touching her earlobe as he spoke. [“I want you.”]

“Сейчас.” He nipped at her earlobe lightly before sucking it into his mouth, his tongue sweeping over the spot where his teeth had just been. [“Now!”]

“к стене, на полу, в моей постели,” he said around the earlobe that was still caught between his lips. [“Against the wall, on the floor, in my bed.”]

And holy mother-effing shit. A language was _not_ supposed to sound that erotic. Felicity was pretty sure that it was Russian, even though she had no idea how Oliver even knew how to speak that language.

Of course, she had no clue what he was saying but the harsh sounds leaving his mouth sent desire racing straight to her core.

His hands kept kneading her ass roughly, while she couldn't help the involuntary movement her hips made to create a friction between them.

“жесткий и быстрый, медленный и глубоко.” [“Hard and fast, slow and deep.”]

If he kept talking like this, she couldn't possibly be held responsible for her actions. She was ready to drag him into her room and let him have his way with her, when a throat was cleared somewhere in the hallway.

“I'm sorry to interrupt, but you wanted to be picked up at 11 for your meeting in the city, Mr. Queen,” came the voice of an apparently very uncomfortable Diggle.

Oliver let go of her earlobe and she could feel the cool air of his exasperated sigh sweeping over her ear. “I'll be there in a sec,” he said without moving away from her.

Felicity could hear the trusted bodyguard retreating, accompanied by a string of curse words about damn rich people who should get a room.

Oliver still hovered at the side of her head, lips barely half an inch from her skin. To her growing frustration, Felicity realized that she wanted nothing more than to feel them on her neck again.

His hands moved away from her ass and it took all her will power to not groan in protest. His nimble fingers skimmed over her ribcage, thumbs just below her bra. If he would only move them a little more. Just a little...

Suddenly, his mouth moved down to a particular sensitive spot on her neck. How the hell he found that so fast was completely beyond her right now. His lips attacked the soft skin just above her pulse point with such a ferocity that she was sure he'd leave a very visible mark. It was all lips and teeth and tongue. Her hands moved from their position on his belt to run her fingernails through the soft hairs at the nape of his neck.

All too soon, his lips stopped the assault on her neck, his stubble scratching lightly over her sensitive skin.

“If you can't take the heat, don't start a fire,” he whispered into her neck and she could feel the grin forming on his lips against her skin.

Without looking at her, he turned around and left her in the empty hallway.

That bastard.

She slumped back into the wall, bringing her fingers to the raw skin of her neck. Someone would definitely need to wear a scarf the next few days.

After a few seconds, she willed herself to move. Pushing away from the wall, she entered her room. She tossed the phone on her bed and headed straight for the bathroom. A glance in the mirror told her that she looked like death warmed over. Mascara streaks running down her pale cheeks, eyes red and blotchy. And a very big hickey forming on her neck.

Quickly, she stepped out of her clothes and under the spray of the shower. Not many things helped her relax more after something stressful happened than a hot shower.

As the water was cascading down her body, her mind involuntarily went back to Oliver. Being with him was like riding a roller coaster.

She hated roller coasters. The irregular ups and downs, the sudden shifts, the loopings, and the speed were just not her thing. That sentiment extended to her life as well.

And yet, somehow, she couldn't think of a more accurate way of describing her relationship with Oliver. All those sudden mood swings, impulsive actions and relentless fights felt like a particularly intense roller coaster ride that left her a little queasy.

She didn't want a relationship with drama. Didn't need the thrill and excitement. She wanted a simple life, nothing more and nothing less. Instead, she felt like she was the protagonist in a soap opera.

The effect that he had on her was infuriating. No one else had ever provoked such extreme reactions from her. Such intense emotions. She felt like she was caught in a constant state somewhere between hate and lust.

A good half an hour later, she plopped down on her bed only to sit right back up when she turned on her tablet. The decryption program was done. Quickly she sifted through the information.

Well, this was interesting.

She dug through her purse and pulled out the phone The Hood had given her. He answered on the second ring.

“Hello, Felicity.” Again with that stupid distorted voice.

“Hello... Hood. Mr. Hood?” she questioned.

He ignored her question. “What did you find?”

Rude, she thought. “There was information about James Holder on there. Blue prints of his properties, his calendar, phone numbers and other stuff. But as you know, James Holder was killed last night.”

Her reply was acknowledged by a grumble and then, “Anything else?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. There were blue prints of the Exchange Building and several buildings surrounding it on the laptop. And also a digital copy of the invitation list for the Unidac Industries auction that is held there, profiles on almost everybody that's attending, and a copy of the evening's program.” She halted for a moment.

“The auction is tonight. I'm actually attending with the rest of the Queen slash Steele clan, because Walter is planning on buying Unidac. Do you think something will happen at the auction?” she asked and couldn't quite keep the worry out of her voice.

On the other end of the line, she heard him exhale harshly.

“Don't worry, I'll be there.”

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title translation: "Optimum est pati quod emendare non possis." (It is best to endure what you cannot change. -Seneca)


	4. Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

Oliver scanned the crowd, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious, but so far, there was nothing out of the ordinary. The evening was in full swing, people were talking everywhere around him, some even dancing to the music of a small band on the little dance floor. This was supposed to be the fun part before the auction started. Get everybody relaxed and, more importantly, liquored up before it was time to spend money. Not the worst tactic to go about this.

"The building on the eastern side is clear, heading to the next one," Diggle said over the comms.

Oliver clenched his jaw. Of course, they weren't lucky enough to choose the right building on the first try. One down, two to go.

Deadshot was infamous for his superior sniper skills and according to the information Felicity had gotten off his laptop, he had scoped out three buildings close to the Exchange Building where the auction was going on. After a heated debate between Diggle and him, Oliver had finally caved and agreed to be at the party while Diggle searched through the buildings. He'd stowed away his suit and bow in one of the staircases. If push came to shove, he was ready to suit up as The Hood.

His eyes zeroed in on a flaming red dress. There was only one person who'd be brazen enough to wear a color like that to this event. Her blonde locks were falling freely over her shoulders. The dress, while not showing too much skin, was accentuating every curve of her body perfectly.

She was standing in a little circle with his mother, sister and Walter. His sister was talking animatedly, no doubt about one of his childhood escapades if her fleeting mischievous looks toward him were any indication. Felicity was throwing her head back in laughter.

God, she was beautiful.

"Maybe if you told her that once in a while, she'd stop hating you and busting your balls," Diggle chimed in smugly over the comms.

"Shut up," Oliver mumbled, glad that the other man wasn't around to see the faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

Just then, his mother spotted him and motioned for him to come over to them. Reluctantly, he moved through the crowd and put his fake smile in place when he reached the group.

"The auction starts in ten minutes, how about you two," Moira looked at Felicity and him, "go dancing."

He could see Felicity's eyes widen and she choked on the sip of champagne she'd just taken. "No, thank you," she managed to say between coughs, before she dropped her voice so only he could hear her. "I'd rather jump off the roof."

Thea patted her back gently, giving her a smug grin. "I think dancing's a fantastic idea. Especially because your nosy reporter friend of the Starling City Gazette is here and she's already cornered me three times in the past hour to get a quote on why you two haven't made any public appearances since the wedding. Shouldn't she be asking you that?"

Oliver watched as Felicity's face grew stony, putting one of her masks firmly in place. "What did you tell her?" she asked, completely ignoring Thea's question.

"That you were enjoying your newlywed status to the fullest extent."

"Thea," his mother chided her.

"What?" she asked, batting her eyes innocently. "I said it was off the record and that she should try talking to the happy couple instead of bothering me." She looked past Felicity. "Which she is apparently going to do right now."

Felicity's whole body whipped around, slamming one hand into Oliver's stomach in the process. He covered her hand automatically with his, which made her look back at him. He searched her eyes, confused to see the mixed emotions swirling through her electric blue orbs.

"Well, isn't this adorable," came her friend's voice from behind them. "I was hoping to ask the two of you a few questions, like how married life is treating you. Are you happy together?"

After a beat, Felicity tore her eyes away from him and fixed her friend with a cool stare that she usually reserved for him. Something was definitely off between these two. As far as he knew, Jennifer Curtis was her best friend and they were inseparable.

"Actually," Felicity interrupted his thoughts, "I was just about to take my husband for a spin on the dance floor."

Before he knew what was happening, she had laced her fingers with his and was dragging him over to the little dance floor where only two other couples were dancing. She looped her hands around his neck.

For a moment, all he could do was stand there and look completely dumbfounded. Sharp fingernails digging into the nape of his neck pulled him out of his stupor.

"Grab my waist, Oliver," she hissed.

He finally looked at her, seeing the apprehension and anger in her eyes that were, for once, not solely directed at him. Tentatively, he placed his hands on her waist, pulling her a little closer. He was fully aware that countless pairs of eyes were on them in that moment. And why wouldn't they be watching them? Even five weeks after the wedding, their marriage was still one of the tabloids' favorite topics.

"What's going on?" he asked, surprising himself with the soft tone of his question.

Judging by her stunned look, he wasn't the only one who was surprised. "Since when do you care?"

He let out an exasperated sigh. She was right, of course. Usually, he didn't let it show that he cared. But he did. That morning he had cared why she had come home in tears, until his jealousy had taken over and he'd accused her of cheating on him. She, of course, had put him in his place, telling him in no uncertain terms that she hadn't cheated on him and didn't plan on doing it in the future.

Her vehemence had surprised him. It had seemed important to her to make sure that he knew that even though their circumstances were less than ideal, she wouldn't step out on him. By telling him that, she'd involuntary admitted to taunting him on his birthday to provoke a reaction. That was another surprise.

One thing their two encounters, first at Verdant and then in the mansion, had taught him about her: she was seriously turned on by their belligerent interactions.

One thing their encounters had taught him about himself: he was seriously turned on by the way she always stood up to him. Never scared to tell him off.

But despite all the animosity that morning, he'd also filed away the little tidbit she'd let slip about herself. She'd  been cheated on in the past. A fact that evoked a powerful reaction from him. More powerful than he'd thought possible. He wanted to know who the bastard was, hunt him down and kill him slowly, administering as much pain as he had caused her.

"Oliver?" she whispered.

"Huh?" he asked, slowly coming back from his thoughts.

"If you hold me any tighter, I'm pretty sure you'll leave bruises."

His eyes snapped down to his hands and surely enough he was gripping her tiny waist tightly with his fingers, having unconsciously tightened his hold on her while thinking about her cheating ex-boyfriend.

"Sorry," he mumbled, loosening his grip and running his fingers over the smooth fabric of her dress to soothe the pain he had caused.

They swayed slowly to the music. "So you're not gonna tell me why you practically ran away from your best friend just now?"

"Why would I?" she questioned, the usual defiance in her voice.

"It might help, you know, to talk about it."

She let out a snort. "What would _you_ know about talking?"

"Not much," he admitted. "But I've been told that it helps people sort through stuff." He let out a sigh. "Look, obviously I can't force you to tell me, but," he halted for a second. "If you want to talk... I'm here to listen."

She tilted her head to the side, searching his eyes intently before saying, "Okay."

He looked down at her, unable to hide the smile that erupted on his lips.

Suddenly, camera flashes were going off around them. Instinctively, Oliver pulled her closer so that her head was pressing into his chest but the new position seemed to be uncomfortable for her and she let her hands fall from his neck. He didn't have time to dwell on the fact that he missed the warmth of her fingers playing with the little hairs on the nape of his neck, because her hands were creeping under his suit jacket, wrapping tightly around his torso. More flashes went off and then... all hell broke loose.

A few feet away, Oliver saw Detective Lance dive for Walter, tearing him down to the floor. Only a millisecond later, the first shot shattered the window and hit one of the waiters. Screams were echoing through the now panic-filled room. Police officers were filing in through the double doors urging everybody to get down and away from the windows.

A series of rapidly fired shots sent everybody scattering for the doors, some of them tripping and falling over each other in their haste to get out of harm's way. Oliver had knelt down and pulled Felicity with him as soon as the first shot had been fired.

"We gotta get to the door," she said, panic lacing her voice. Without waiting for a reply, she got up and tried pulling him with her towards the exit.

He didn't even have time to get up before another shot rang through the night. He heard a pained scream that sounded distinctly like Felicity's before he saw her legs buckle beneath her. He heard his own voice yell "No!" while he watched in slow motion as her head hit the marble floor with a sickening thud, his body and his reflexes for once not quick enough to get him over to her position in time.

"What happened?" Digg asked urgently over the comms.

Oliver quickly brought up his hand to his ear to activate the device once again.

"Felicity's been hit." He cowered down next to her, examining her quickly. "It's just a graze but she's still in danger. Bring the car around."

"Oliver, I just finished clearing the second building, which means Deadshot fired from the third one. There are only two exits, we can catch him."

"Diggle, I swear if you don't have the goddamn car ready to go at the service entrance in two minutes, I will put an arrow in you," Oliver roared in response.

He scooped Felicity's unconscious body up in his arms, feeling a trickle of warm blood run through his fingers where he tried to apply pressure to the wound on her thigh. With quick steps he made his way to the emergency staircase, glad to find it abandoned. Of course, Starling City's elite would go for the elevators instead of the stairs. With one hand he grabbed his bag that held his green suit from the trashcan and bounded down the stairs, careful to not accidentally slam Felicity's head into the railing or wall.

Once he kicked open the door that he knew led to the service loading dock, he was actually relieved to see their town car waiting for him. He knew how much it must've pained Digg to not even try to go after his brother's killer. But with Felicity's life at stake there was no choice to make.

The drive to the foundry was mostly spent in silence, leaving Oliver entirely too much time to ponder his decision. There hadn't even been one second where going after Deadshot and leaving Felicity's life in the surely very capable hands of the EMTs had been an option. That scared him more than anything. Until now, the mission had always come first. Always.

"Oliver, we're here." Diggle had already opened the car door for him.

He tightened his grip on the still unconscious Felicity and maneuvered her out of the back seat.

"Head back to the Exchange Building and pick up the others," he ordered, somehow managing to punch in the code for the side door that lead directly down to the foundry.

"And what am I supposed to tell them about where you two went?" Diggle barked at him from where he was standing at the car.

"I don't care. Make something up," he yelled back before letting the heavy steel door fall shut behind him.

He knew that later he'd get an earful for his behavior tonight, but didn't care at that moment. He set down his wife's limp body as carefully as possible on the med table.

Quickly, he gathered all the necessary supplies. Just when he was about to try and wake her up, he finally realized that he was standing in the middle of the freaking foundry. How in the hell was he supposed to explain this to her? He wasn't ready to tell her about his secret identity. Not yet, anyway.

Cursing loudly, he grabbed his bag and quickly changed into his The Hood's get up and turned down the lights as much as possible. He took a mental note to thank Diggle for convincing him to get an actual mask, instead of the grease paint he'd used in the beginning.

Once again, he turned to Felicity. She looked so small and so much younger, lying there in the dim light of the cold foundry. He wanted nothing more than to take a moment and catalog everything about her. The way her soft skin glistened in the semi darkness, the little crease between her brows, the complete and utter peace that was radiating off of her.

But he didn't have time. He knew he had to get the island herbs into her as soon as possible, so he pulled the hood over his head, turned on the voice modulator and moved over to her still body. He hadn't bothered to put on his gloves, knowing they'd only hinder him. His calloused fingers stroked softly over her cheek.

"Felicity," he said. "You have to wake up." He used his other hand to shake her shoulder slightly.

No response.

He tried again, a little louder this time. "Felicity."

She groaned and stirred a little but kept her eyes shut. He ran his thumb over her cheek again. In response, she slightly turned her head, trying to get closer to his hand.

And then suddenly, she came to with a start, grabbing the hand that was cupping her cheek and gasping, "Oliver."

Shit.

He went completely still, not daring to move while he stared down into her eyes that were searching the space around her frantically. His heart was beating in his throat. She'd figured out who he was.

Her eyes came to rest on his concealed face. When she spoke, her voice was a lot more determined than he'd expected after just regaining consciousness. "Where is he?"

What?

He looked at her perplexedly for a moment. "What?"

She sat up then, ignoring his protesting hand on her shoulder. "Where's Oliver? He was right next to me. Oh my God, he's okay, right?" she asked in a rush.

He released a breath of air that he hadn't even realized he was holding. "He's fine. Don't worry about him, we have to worry about you right now."

"No. Where is he? I want to talk to him. And where the hell are _we_?" she demanded.

He felt something tug at his heart. She was concerned for him. Like, actually concerned. Who would have thought that underneath all that animosity there was honest concern?

"Felicity, I need to stitch you up first and you have to swallow this," he told her and motioned to the dried herbs.

"Stitch me up?" she asked confusedly. "And I'm actually very particular about what I put into my mouth and _that_ is _not_ going anywhere near it," she said more determinedly, pointing at the herbs.

Oliver coughed, trying to hide his laughter. What was it about this woman and sexual innuendos?

Her face fell, when she realized what she'd said. "That is _so_ not what I meant," she groaned in frustration. "I was totally pointing at the dried plants and not your..."

"Felicity, please just swallow them." She cocked her head to the side. "You know what I meant."

"Why do I have to... ingest them?" she asked curiously, choosing her words more carefully now.

"They will counteract the effects of the poison."

"What poison?"

Oliver sighed and moved his hand down to her bare knee where her dress had ridden up a little, trying and failing to ignore the electric spark that surged through his body when he touched her. One of her hands automatically shot out to cover his.

"You've been shot with a bullet that was laced with curare."

He watched as her gaze fell down to her thigh. "Holy shit, I've been shot? Wow, yeah, now that you mention it, my leg does hurt a little bit."

"Luckily, it's just a graze, but from experience I can tell you that you should hurry up with the herbs."

"What happens if I don't?" she asked, feeding his growing annoyance.

"You'll die a very slow painful death," he snapped before taking a deep breath. "Sorry, I didn't mean to go off on you." She nodded in acknowledgment. "It will slowly paralyze your muscles and organs. Your lungs will stop working and you will suffocate to death, all while being awake and aware of what's happening. If you'd been fully hit and not just grazed, you could be dead already."

She sucked in a breath and stuffed the herbs in her mouth, chewing vigorously. Despite the gravity of the situation, he smiled and handed her the bottle of water.

While she swallowed and gagged a few time while trying to swallow the dried leaves, he started preparing the suture kit and laid out all other supplies.

"Oh God, that was _nasty,_ " she said and made a face. "But better than dying."

He hesitated for a second before saying, "I need to take a look at the wound and..." He trailed off.

"It's kinda high up my thigh. Yeah," she replied thoughtfully. "Do you have a blanket or anything?"

Oliver quickly took stock of everything around him. No blankets. But..

"I can give you a hoodie. I know it's not much but you can at least cover up a little bit."

"That'll work," she replied with a smile, accepting the offered gray hoodie to place it in her lap. "Do your worst."

He hesitated for another second before he placed his fingers on the skin of her knee again. Ignoring the spark it once again sent through him. Slowly, he moved up the red fabric of her dress, carefully peeling it off the wound where the blood had already clotted.

Her hand shot up to grip his shoulder while she sucked in a shaky breath.

"Sorry," he mumbled. After surveying the wound he continued, "It's still bleeding a little. I'll clean it and then I'll put in two or three stitches, okay?"

She cleared her throat. "Yeah, sure, do what you have tooooooooo. OW!" she protested when he poured a healthy amount of peroxide over the open flesh without warning. "Holy mother of... I swear if you do that again, I'm gonna punch you in the face."

"I'd give you an anesthetic, but I don't have any down here," he said apologetically.

"Where is 'down here' anyway?" she asked through gritted teeth while he used some gauze to clean the edges of the gash.

"It's my... base of operations, I guess."

"I really hope you don't live here. It kinda smells like something died down here."

"I don't live down here. This is gonna hurt," he said and pierced her skin with the suture needle for the first time.

She slammed her free hand against her mouth to muffle her scream while gripping his shoulder almost to the point of pain. "Oh God, please stop."

He stilled his movements and looked up. Pain was etched into every feature of her face, her whole body tense. It actually hurt him to see her like this. Bringing his free hand up to cup her face, he stroked her cheek lightly with his thumb, catching the stray tear that escaped her eyes.

"Can't you just knock me unconscious?" Her tone held a certain amount of playfulness that broke through the pain, but he wasn't completely sure if she was joking or not.

"Try to breathe through the pain. Take deep breaths," he suggested.

He knew the sheer amount of pain that stitching up wounds without any sort of anesthetic could bring out. He'd had to endure a fair share of them on and off the island. It was a gruesome procedure, but it had to be done.

In the end, it took him four stitches to close the gash, trying very hard to be as neat about them as possible in an attempt to not leave a nasty looking scar. By the time he finished the second stitch, she had pulled him close enough to bury her head in his shoulder, her sobs muffled against the leather of his jacket.

When he'd dressed the wound, he carefully pulled her dress down to cover it. "If you think you can get up, I'll bring you home."

She let out a deep sigh before pushing away from his shoulder. Her tears and mascara had left dark stains running down her cheeks and for the second time today her eyes where red from crying.

"Thanks," she shot him a smile that looked somewhat sad. "It's nice to have someone care."

His body went rigid. "I'm sure you have people that care about you," he said carefully, trying to keep the guilt and pain out of his voice.

"Right now, I'm not so sure. I had a fight with my best friend, I barely know the family I married into, and sadly enough that's still better than the family I was born into, and my husband... I don't think he cares," she answered sadly.

Right then, he was ready to reveal to her who he was. Hug her, kiss her, never let her go. Tell her that he did care.

She let out a humorless chuckle. "He's never cared. You know, I remember this one time where someone else was making fun of me and he just sat there and did nothing."

Oliver winced. Yeah, he remembered that, too. He'd been a complete dick that night.

 **⁂**  
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**\- January 2013 -**

_It had been a week since their first date. He'd spent most of the time since then fighting. Fighting with his mom. Fighting with Walter. Fighting with Thea. Fighting with the lawyers that were drawing up the contracts. Even fighting with Diggle._

_The only person he wasn't fighting with was his future wife. Not yet. That was mainly because they hadn't seen each other since that fateful day last week. The day that, as it turned out, would change his whole life._

_Now, he was sitting opposite of Felicity at Tablesalt. Before they'd come here, they'd met at the mansion to sign the pre-contracts that manifested their "relationship". Oliver couldn't help but feel like he'd sold his soul to the devil. Only that the devil came in the form of two very determined business women._

_For the past week he'd tried, unsuccessfully so, to find a way out of this arrangement. But his mother hadn't budged at all. She was hellbent on making this deal work, telling him they'd be foolish to pass up an opportunity like this. Even his suggestion to wait until the other company was actually bankrupt and take it over then for a significantly lower price was shot down quickly._

_Moira had played the responsibility card, reminding him of his obligations as the heir to Queen Consolidated. Even going so far as to remind him of his father's wish for him to get more involved in the company and take on more responsibility. That had seriously pissed him off._

_What the hell did she know about Robert Queen's wishes for his son? She hadn't been there when he'd asked his son to right his wrongs just before he'd taken his life to save him and Oliver was pretty sure he hadn't just been talking about Queen Consolidated._

" _Well, well, well, if it isn't Oliver Queen."_

_Oliver snapped out of his thoughts. Shit._

" _Max Fuller," he said and looked up at the man standing beside their table. "How's your club doing? Judging by the amount of people lining up outside of Verdant on a regular basis, there can't be too much going on at Poison," he said smugly, only partly because Fuller knew him as the arrogant playboy and more because he seriously disliked the guy._

" _Don't worry about my club, Queen, it's doing great," the other man shot back angrily before settling his gaze on Felicity. "Queen, man, what happened to you on that island? Did it damage you so much that you can't score pretty girls anymore? You have to settle for_ this _?" He scoffed, giving Felicity a once over._

" _But hey, if you like the whole naughty librarian thing, I guess she'll do.  Whatever floats your boat, right? I don't really see the appeal, though. That innocent act is totally overrated," he motioned at her. "I, for one, wouldn't sleep with her if she was the last woman on this earth."_

_Oliver's head snapped around to face her. Her eyes had widened in shock, no doubt because of the pretty nasty insults. He leaned back in his chair, another smug grin directed at the other man. Oh, Fuller was in for a ride._

_A second passed and then another. Nothing happened._

_He finally turned back around to her. Instead of giving Fuller hell for his comments about her, she sat there a little slumped in her chair, eyes directed stoically at her lap._

_After a few more seconds, Fuller chuckled. "Well, I knew you were a dick, Queen, but this is a low point even for you," he said and stalked off without another word._

_Oliver tried and failed not to wince at his words. Suddenly angry, he looked at the woman in front of him again. "Why the hell didn't you say anything?"_

_Her head shot up and, sure enough, there it was. The anger he'd already become accustomed to. "Are you serious?" she asked, her voice only wavering a little._

" _Of course," he threw back at her. "I accidentally kill one of your stupid computers and you have all hell raining down on me. I mean, seriously? False fire alarms and the FBI's no fly list? And how the hell did you make it look like my bike was used in a bank robbery? They still haven't released it from the impound," he grumbled._

" _Well, I doubt that you have to walk, so suck it up," she replied dryly and got up from her seat._

" _Where do you think you're going?"_

" _Anywhere, as long as it's away from you." With that she stormed out._

_Oliver cursed and threw a few bills on the table before chasing after her. For such a petite woman she was surprisingly fast on her feet. She'd almost made it a block before he'd managed to catch up to her. He grabbed her arm and whirled her around._

" _Fuck off."_

 _He let out a humorless chuckle. "See, there's the attitude I was expecting to hit Fuller like a brick wall and yet you said_ nothing _. How is it that I'm the only target on your anger shooting range?"_

" _Leave me alone," she hissed and tried to break free from his grip but he only held her tighter._

" _No," he said slowly. "I want to know why you turn into the biggest bitch when I do or say something you don't like, but you let him get away with what he said to you without so much as batting an eye."_

" _Because his words_ hurt _," she roared. "Because I've been hearing stuff like that for years. Because that's what dozens of newspapers and magazines will say when our engagement is announced next week. Because all of Starling City will wonder what possessed you to decide to marry someone like me."_

 _Her voice was now close to the breaking point. "And you know the worst part about this? Max Fuller and all those other people will be right. If it weren't for the contracts we just signed that say that either family stands to lose_ billions _of dollars if one of us backs out of this commitment, we wouldn't be standing here. Hell, you would've probably never even talked to me in the first place._

" _I know that we're both in a situation that we definitely don't want to be in and that it's simply not right what our mothers are expecting of us. But, you know, during dinner I thought 'hey, maybe we can do this for five years and be civil about it'. But then, Fuller said those things about me, about us, and you just sat there and did nothing. I get that you don't like me but what does it say about both of us when the man I'm going to marry in less than three months doesn't even bother to stand up for me?"_

_A stray tear made its way down her cheek and that rattled him even more than her words. She twisted her hands out of his grip and stalked off into the night._

_He stood frozen in the middle of a street somewhere in Starling City. Somehow, this infuriating, frustrating woman had mastered the art of stunning him to his core in the shortest amount of time._

_So, yeah, he could've said something to defend her, but in all honesty, he had really expected her to fight her own battle and that he'd probably be called a chauvinistic prick if he had come to her help. Until now, he hadn't gotten that damsel in distress vibe from her at all and he wasn't quite sure why it had come out now._

_He didn't deny the cruelty of Fuller's words or that he felt a tiny bit of guilt because he had provoked him. But he still didn't understand why she'd been so affected by them. They were just words after all. He'd been faced with public scrutiny his whole life, especially after his return from the island. She grew up as the daughter of a well-known billionaire. Surely enough, she should be used to facing and ignoring the public opinion by now._

_He let out a deep, frustrated sigh, running his hands over his face. Not for the first time he had to admit that there were many layers hidden under the feisty façade she usually put up. Not just the highly talented computer expert, but also a vulnerable young woman._

_Shit. He was such an idiot. He'd already come to this conclusion during their dinner last week, how had he forgotten about it. He was usually good with storing away details about the people around him. But this one had slipped through his fingers._

_Yeah, he really felt like a complete dick now._

**\- End of Flashback -**  
  
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"You okay?"

He chuckled in response and shook himself out of the unpleasant memory. "I'm pretty sure I should be asking you that, with your bullet wound and all."

"Meh," she said and pointed her thumbs at herself. "This girl is tougher than she looks."

Yeah, sometimes she was.

He cleared his throat. "We should go."

He helped her slide off the med table, not missing the shiver that ran through her. Wordlessly, he reached around her and handed her the discarded hoodie.

"Thank you." She smiled at him gratefully and he felt another urge to reveal himself to her. "So what kind of car do you drive?" she asked and pulled the hoodie over her head. Of course, it was too big on her tiny frame, the sleeves running well past her hands and the hem reaching mid thigh, still showing a few inches of her red dress.

"Actually, I drive a motorcycle."

She did a double take and looked at him with widened eyes. "You expect me to ride a motorcycle with this dress and these heels." She pointed at her admittedly very high black heels. "After I've been shot? No, no way. That has disaster written all over it."

He held back an exasperated sigh. "It's either the bike or a cab. And I would feel much better if you'd just let me drive you home."

He could see the uncertainty etched into her features and she nibbled lightly on her bottom lip in a nervous manner.

"It's safe, I promise," he said as softly as his voice modulator would allow.

She finally nodded her head in agreement. "Okay, let's go." She took a step forward, but he stopped her.

"Wait," he rummaged through his bag that was a little off to the side. "I'm sorry, but you have to wear this."

"Are you kidding me?" she asked incredulously, looking down at the tie in his hands.

"You can't see anything that will tip you off to this location, so it's either being blindfolded for a few minutes or I'll finally club you over the head so you're unconscious. Your choice."

She grumbled something he couldn't understand and snatched the tie from his hands. She made quick work of tying it around her head and said, "That's not how men usually use these on me. And just so you know, this is _so_ much less fun."

Oliver's head snapped up. What? Before his mind could conjure any vivid images of just what use she usually made of ties and in which context, her frustrated groan interrupted her.

"Ugh, sorry, still working on the whole brain to mouth filter thing. Let's just get going, okay?"

He nodded mutely, vaguely aware of the fact that she couldn't see him. Slowly, he led her up the stairs and through the empty night club. Even though she was a self-proclaimed klutz, he had to give her credit for only stumbling twice on their way to his bike.

Once he had her settled behind him, despite her constant string of babbling about how she would either fall off or flash the entire city, he turned his head towards her. With a roar he let the engine come to life. "Hold on to me tight, Felicity," he called out over the noise and guided her hands around his torso.

She let out a little shriek somewhere between horror and excitement when he drove off with a start, her hands clutching the fabric of his leather jacket and her head pressed into the space between his shoulder blades.

For the next few minutes, he just drove aimlessly through the Glades, making several sharp turns and even driving in a circle a few times in an attempt to throw off her sense of orientation.

"I swear, if you take one more turn, I'll puke all over your back. Riding a motorcycle is one thing, but riding it blindfolded shifts my penchant for motion sickness into high gear. Pun intended," she complained, her voice muffled by his jacket.

Oliver smirked. "You can take off the tie if you want. We still have about twenty minutes ahead of us and I don't want to find out if I can get puke out of the leather."

She momentarily lifted one hand from where it was still clutching to his jacket and mumbled an "Oh thank God."

The rest of the ride was spent in silence. Since he'd foregone helmets and didn't want to risk anything with Felicity on the bike, he drove much slower than he usually would, using the time to sort through his thoughts.

For the first time, he really had a moment to realize just how scared he'd been that evening. If his time away from home had taught him something, it was to think with his head and not with his heart. He'd learned how to make rational decisions based on facts, even it that meant to sacrifice something or someone. Up until now, he had never had a problem with it. Making decisions based on stone cold facts had saved his life and the lives of others many times.

Tonight, though, every last ounce of his ability to think rationally had gone out the window. When he'd seen Felicity go down that night, all bets had been off. His vision had tunneled and all he could see, all he could think about was her. No one else in the room had mattered. Not his mother or Thea. Not Walter or all the other innocent bystanders. There had only been one person. Felicity.

The only instinct he'd had was to get her the hell out of there. Get her to safety. No matter the cost. He knew that he'd pissed off Diggle by not going after Deadshot, by ordering him around and asking him to lie to his family. But he'd done what was necessary. He'd do it again in a heartbeat if it meant Felicity was safe and sound.

That scared him more than anything. He'd never felt so strongly about anyone else in his life. Not about Laurel or any member of his family. Yes, he'd go through hell and back for every single one of them, but with Felicity it was different. He'd do anything for her. Kill, be killed, he'd do anything without blinking an eye, without asking questions and without any regrets.

He didn't know when it'd had happened, but he'd developed feelings for her that were beyond anything he could put into words. Feelings that went beyond anything he could understand. And it was a dangerous line he was walking. He'd tried to keep his distance, convinced it would make the feelings disappear or at least weaken them. But it hadn't worked. Despite his anger towards her, he'd felt a constant pull, tempting him to talk to her and explore his feelings for her.

This morning's confrontation hadn't helped him one bit in getting closer to answers. Instead, it had only raised more questions.

Using a back road onto the grounds that he frequently used to sneak in and out at all times of the day without being seen by the guards or his family, he finally stopped in the shades of a big tree near the main entrance of the house. He shut off the engine and climbed off after checking that the hood was still covering his face properly, always careful to keep the bike and Felicity on it steady.

She took his offered hand and smiled widely at him. Her hair was a tangled mess of blonde curls and her make up was still smudged from crying earlier. But God help him, she still looked beautiful.

"Thank you," she whispered and took a step forward, placing her small hands on his shoulders. He instinctively tensed but let her step even closer. And then her lips where on his cheek, pressing a soft kiss into his stubble.

Before he could really register what was happening, she'd already pulled back and stepped away a little. There was a faint blush warming up her cheeks. "Sorry," she said while fidgeting with the sleeves of the hoodie she was still wearing. "I don't know what the protocol is for thanking someone for saving her life, so..."

He moved before his brain could stop him. Both hands cupped her face lightly while pulling her towards him. His lips touched hers and his brain shut down completely, letting his emotions take over.

Kissing her was like a drug. The feeling of her lips against his. The breathless gasps she let out. The little sounds that escaped her mouth. Everything was perfection and made him feel light headed and like he was floating on a cloud somewhere high above the ground.

At first, she didn't react but that didn't stop him from continuing to kiss her like he'd always wanted to. Slowly, with a passion that for once wasn't fueled by jealousy or anger. And when she started kissing him back it was like all of his prayers had been answered. There was no real sense of urgency this time. He ran his tongue over her bottom lip, seeking, hell, _begging_ for entrance, in a desperate need to taste her on his tongue again.

But before he could deepen the kiss, she pushed him away forcefully. After several deep breaths she was able to speak again. "No, I can't..." She took another calming breath. "I'm sorry if I somehow gave you the wrong impression, but I'm married and despite how hot you are and don't even get me started on your kissing skills, because, holy hell, you're good at that." She paused once more. "But I'm faithful to my husband," she finished firmly.

He took a hasty step back. Shit. Shit. _Shit_. For a second, he'd actually forgotten that he was The Hood right now and not Oliver Queen. "I'm sorry, that shouldn't have happened," he said quickly and he saw her nod in thoughtful agreement.

"Good night, Mr. Hood," she said with a small smile and moved to walked past him, but stopped in her tracks. "Oh, and if you ever need help with a laptop that you spilled a latte on again or any other tech problem, I'm your girl."

He watched her hobble to the door and after another look in his direction she closed it behind her. He left his bike where it was and used the shadow of the trees and bushes around the house to move around to the east wing. There was already light on in her room and he briefly wondered how she'd made it up there that quickly when his phone rang. His private phone.

Making sure that his voice modulator was off he answered, "Hey, Speedy, what's up?"

"Ugh, how many times do I have to tell you that nobody calls me that anymore?" He didn't even have time to protest. "Doesn't matter now. What matters is that while you're still off talking to the police, your wife just got home from the party of hell, limping and wearing another man's hoodie."

"Thea," he warned his sister, knowing how much she loved to provoke him with this stuff. No wonder that Felicity and her got along so well.

"Okay, I'll drop it, but only because we have bigger problems."

"What's going on?" he asked with spiked interest.

"Remember how Grammy talked about that 4-month world cruise she's going to do next week? Apparently, she's decided to spend the rest of the time before the cruise starts with us, saying that she won't see us for so long," Thea let out in a rush.

"So? That's nice of her. You love spending time with her. What's the problem?"

"The problem is that she was here when we came back from the auction waiting for her suitcases to be brought up to her favorite guest room."

"So what?" he questioned impatiently.

His sister groaned in frustration. "Ollie, her favorite room is the same one that Felicity is currently using as her bed room."

Shit.

"Tell her to take a different room."

Thea scoffed. "Have you met the woman? If she wants something, she gets it. I tried telling her that the room was being used for something else, but she wasn't having any of it. So I told Raisa to stall her with a discussion about cake recipes, and moved all of Felicity's stuff to your room. I'm pretty sure that woman has more computers than shoes. How's that even possible?"

Oliver groaned. This was so not what he needed right now.

"So Grammy already moved into the room?"

"Yes, and she's planning on, and I'm quoting her, 'making sure that the two of you are busy making great-grandchildren for her to spoil'," Thea said with way too much glee in her voice. "I already informed Felicity and by now she should be in your room, settling in."

He sighed. "So basically..."

"So basically," he was cut off by his sister. "You'll be sharing a bed with your wife for the next week."

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title translation: Even God finds it hard to love and be wise (at the same time).


	5. Si vis pacem, para bellum

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

Felicity stretched her body tiredly on the couch in Oliver's room, instantly regretting the movement when the stitches pulled at the still tender wound. Getting shot was no fun _at all_. Even if it was just a graze, she hoped she'd never have to feel that kind of pain again.

A glance at her tablet's clock revealed that it was nearing 11pm and there was still no sign of Oliver. Diggle had apparently told the rest of the Queen family that he was being questioned as a witness by the police. But the shooting had been hours ago, she'd been home for more than an hour and _she_ 'd made that involuntary stop in the hood cave. Then again, if her own experience with Starling City's finest when someone had broken into her apartment had taught her anything, it was that the SCPD was pretty slow, but this seemed wonky even for them. It didn't take hours to take a simple witness statement, especially if there were hundreds of possible witnesses that had to be interviewed.

Not that she was worried about Oliver. Because she wasn't! Not even a little bit.

Okay, so maybe just a teeny tiny bit.

She sighed and swiped over her tablet again, pushing her thoughts of him away, her eyes flitting over dozens of news articles about the shooting. One man had been killed, more than ten had been hospitalized with various degrees of injuries. Luckily, none of them were in critical condition because apparently the emergency services had been informed by an anonymous source that the bullets were laced in Curare, so that the EMTs could act fast and accordingly.

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. _She_ should've been the eleventh person in the hospital, yet somehow she'd ended up in what she assumed to be a basement somewhere in Starling City with the resident vigilante.

Her memory of the evening was hazy, no doubt due to the gigantic bump on the back of her head that was throbbing like hell. She remembered dancing with Oliver and camera flashes going off everywhere around them. She remembered the sudden movements around her and the shot that had shattered the window. She'd found herself cowering on the floor, big warm hands keeping her in place.

She could still hear the screams and the heels clicking hurriedly over the marble floor. When she'd looked around she'd seen a clear path through all the chaos that led to one of the doors. Without even thinking about it she'd gotten up, trying to pull Oliver with her. Out of the line of fire. Suddenly, there'd been a searing pain in her leg and all at once her body had just shut down, her legs buckling beneath her, making her crash into the hard floor. And then everything had gone black.

The first time she'd managed to open her eyes a little, she'd been carried down a staircase, the breakneck speed and movement making her even more dizzy.

The next time she had actually reached something close to consciousness, even though she hadn't been able to open her eyes, she'd heard a familiar voice. First, it had been a bark of commands, and then it had dropped down to a soft whisper in her ear. “You'll be fine, Felicity, just hang on.” Her body had been held tightly to someone's chest by the same strong arms that had carried her down the stairs. She could've sworn it was Oliver. There was just something so familiar about the voice and the way the guy's fingers had flitted over her body as if making sure that she was okay other than the bullet wound.

But her foggy mind hadn't allowed her to remember too many details. The next thing she knew, she was lying on a cold table in a musky old basement with The Hood standing next to her who had started to stitch her up. And yeah, she had cried. Sue her. It hurt like a bitch.

And then there had been the crazy ass motorcycle ride. One that she'd been blindfolded for. _Blindfolded_. At least it had been with a nice tie and not some old piece of cloth. Actually, if she thought about it, that had been a _really_ nice tie, not something she'd expected a guy running around in green leather and shooting arrows to own. Too bad she'd stuffed it into his pocket once she'd gotten it off. Maybe she would've been able to track down where it had been bought or something.

 _Yeah right, Smoak, like you're some private detective. Maybe you hit your head a little too hard,_ she thought and shook her head slightly.

Once again she focused her gaze on the news bits on her tablet because there was just no way she'd let herself think about what had happened next. No way.

If she started thinking about the kiss, she'd probably never stop. Because wow, that had been a _kiss_. Like a _real_ kiss. All sweet and sexy and slow and... nope, she wasn't thinking about it. Not even a little bit.

In an involuntary motion her fingers came up to trace her lips.

Oh, to hell with it. Who was she kidding anyway? That kiss had been all she could think about since it'd happened. Not only did the guy probably look like a freaking Greek god under all that leather of his, but he kissed like one, too. Not that she knew how Greek gods kissed. Or any gods, for that matter.

But for a few seconds she'd felt like she was floating on air. She'd never been kissed like that before. Not by any of her boyfriends or one night stands and definitely not by her husband. Even though there had been one thing that was similar to the few times that Oliver had kissed her: the hunger. Only The Hood had been able to turn it into a series of unhurried, gentle movements against her lips, whereas Oliver kissed her with an unparalleled ferocity that was much more aggressive and uncontrolled.

Not that that was a bad thing. Kissing Oliver was a kind of high that should be illegal. In all 50 states. The way he could make her see stars with just an expert flick of his tongue was amazing and frustrating at the same time. Now that she thought about it, there was something very similar about how The Hood had flicked his tongue over her lips and how Oliver did it. Huh...

Before she could dwell on the similar yet completely different kissing techniques, the door swung open and Thea trudged in. “Hey, Lis, I see that you found your clothes,” she exclaimed with far too much glee in her voice.

“Yeah, I did. After half an hour, anyway,” she murmured. “Thanks for bringing my stuff over, even though I still don't get why Grammy can't just use one of the twenty other guest rooms.”

Thea laughed and plopped down on the couch next to her. “Wow. This couch is so freaking uncomfortable.” After a pointed glare from Felicity, she continued, ”Right. Grammy. Well, she's very particular about some things. Like, for example, the room she stays in. Back when she still lived here with my grandpa, this used to be the wing they lived in, and your room used to be the master bed room, so I guess it has some sentimental value or something. Whenever she comes to visit, she refuses to stay anywhere but in that room.”

Felicity furrowed her brow. “And nobody thought about that before giving me that room?”

“Well, in our defense, she hasn't stayed overnight since before Ollie... disappeared. In all honesty, it never even crossed my mind,” Thea replied apologetically.

Felicity sighed in resignation. “But did you have to sort all of my things in with Oliver's? I can barely find anything. It's gonna be such a bitch to move all my stuff back to my room.”

The younger woman turned to her with mirth shining from her eyes. “Well, maybe that's a sign.”

“Thea,” Felicity warned, knowing full well where her sister-in-law was going with this. “You know that _this,_ your brother marrying me, is solely part of a very twisted and evil and despicable business deal. Nothing more.”

Thea scoffed. “Yeah, I get that. Well okay, I don't _really_ get it because who the hell arranges marriages in this century anymore? But I'm also a romantic at heart and I hope that one day you'll both see that you're perfect for each other.”

“We're definitely _not_ perfect for each other. All we ever do is fight.”

“Well, I think it's time to apply some of my Pinterest wisdom,” she quipped happily and pulled out her phone, swiping a few times before dramatically reading, ”'Sometimes couples have to argue, not to prove who's right or wrong, but to be reminded that their love is worth fighting for'.”

Felicity stared at her for a full ten seconds before replying carefully, “That may be true for normal couples, but it doesn't apply to our case because there's no love to begin with.”

The younger Queen pouted. “But there _are_ feelings between the two of you. Everyone around you can see that. You have a ridiculous amount of chemistry. Did you see all those flashes going off while you danced tonight, you know, right before the evening turned to shit? Every single camera was pointed at you two in that moment, trying to get a photo of you smiling at each other.”

“That's ridiculous. I don't even understand why anyone cares. Can't they all just mind their own business and leave us be?” Felicity questioned, suddenly annoyed by the renewed media attention. It had been bad enough at the actual wedding when paparazzi had camped right outside the Queen Mansion and a freaking helicopter had flown over the property. You'd think someone actually famous was tying the knot and not just the offspring of two billionaire families.

“Because whether you like it or not you're like royalty in this city. Everybody wants to know what restaurants you go to, which designers you wear, where you spend your vacation. They look at you to get the newest trends. To know what's in and what's out. Right now, you're the couple that every girl envies,” Thea explained with a small smile.

“Again, that's ridiculous. If anybody knew what was going on behind closed doors, no one would envy us. It's all just a charade,” the blonde argued.

“Don't you see? This whole thing might mainly have come to be because of the business side of it. Acquiring SmoakSolutions is a smart step, even if your company is struggling right now. In the long run, it's a sound investment. But maybe the even more important part is the _positive_ PR we're getting from this. For the past few years, everything surrounding our family was pretty negative. Closing down the steel factory, dad and Ollie disappearing on our own _luxury_ yacht, mom remarrying so quickly, my own less than stellar escapades,” she waved her hand dismissively.

“It all stained our family name and damaged the company's reputation. That's where you two come in. Ollie coming back from the dead as a responsible mature man and you being all down to earth and smart and likeable. You're the change of pace this family needs. You're the new generation that will lead the company back to former glory and make it even more successful. You're the working power couple that stands for a fresh start, that shows everybody that nothing will get this family down, that we'll always come back even stronger.”

Felicity regarded her for a few seconds, considering her words. “That's a lot of faith to put into two people that don't even like each other,” she mused. “What if it doesn't work out?”

“That's not an option, Lis. Too much is riding on this. If your marriage fails, especially if it fails in the next few years, the companies will take a huge hit. The investors will doubt us even more than in recent years. All they want to see is a CEO at the helm who's steady and has the right background. Not that I don't love Walter, but he only fits the bill to a certain degree. There are too many questions into his and my mother's relationship. They married so quickly after my dad disappeared that there were rumors about them having an affair even before the Gambit sank.”

“How do you know so much about this?” Felicity questioned curiously.

“Oh, please,” Thea laughed. “I grew up with all this stuff, plus I'm a very talented eavesdropper.”

“Duly noted,” Felicity said. “Hey, can we maybe continue this talk some other time? I'm more tired than I thought and kinda just want to go to bed.”

Thea got up from the couch, nodding her head. “Yeah, I'm beat, too. But don't even think for a second that tomorrow I'm not going to ask you about where you disappeared to and how you ended up back here limping and in a stranger's hoodie,” she warned playfully.

“Good night, Thea,” Felicity said vehemently as the younger woman left her room.

“You know you love me! Good night, Lis,” came Thea's reply just before she closed the door behind her.

Felicity took a deep, steadying breath. There was no denying that Thea was right about the whole PR thing. Damnit, there went her 5-year plan. It had been too good to be true. She'd been so careful in phrasing her demands for the prenup and the other contracts surrounding the deal, but she hadn't considered her moral obligations.

As of the wedding, QC already owned fifteen percent of SmoakSolutions and would buy seven percent for each year of marriage. At the same time, her mother had (very reluctantly) agreed to sign over ten percent of the company for every year that she stayed married to Oliver. Hence, the 5-year plan. By the end of those five years her mother would be permanently out of the company and Felicity would hold fifty percent of the shares while QC held the other fifty.

It had been a solid, calculated plan. A good plan. That had neglected to consider the social consequences of a separation or divorce at any point in her life. Maybe in five years, both companies would be stable enough to face the backlash from disgruntled investors and the media vultures. And if not? Then she was even more screwed than she'd initially thought.

God damnit, she'd only agreed to this whole thing with the prospect of getting out in five years, leaving her enough time to find someone she actually loves and settle down with him. But now that option seemed a million miles away.

Stupid conscience! Stupid sense of obligation! They could both just screw each other and make little guilt babies.

By the time she finally got up from the couch, her head was hurting even more than before, sending little piercing jolts of pain through her skull. Slowly, she made her way to where she suspected the bathroom to be, careful not to put too much weight on her injured leg. Yeah, sleeping would be a bitch.

When she opened the bathroom door and flicked on the lights, her steps faltered. That _m_ _eddl_ _ing_ little sister-in-law. Felicity's robe was hanging right next to Oliver's, all of her toiletries had been neatly placed on one of the two sinks of the enormous bathroom. Her freaking toothbrush was sitting in a cup right next to Oliver's. The domesticity of the situation hit her like a brick wall.

A longing sensation shot through her heart. She wanted this. Preferably not just as a temporary fluke because of their nosy grandma, but for real. The craziest thing? She could maybe even imagine having this with Oliver. Not right now, because hello? They were still at each other's throats every opportunity they got. Well, almost every opportunity. The dance had been kind of nice.

She frowned. Actually, it had been very nice. The way he'd held her (once he'd released the grip of death on her hips) and the way his voice had softened. He'd seemed genuine in his offer to listen to her problems. And then he'd pulled her down to the floor when the first shot had been fired, putting himself between her and the windows, guarding her from any harm. He had willingly put his body, his _life,_ in front of her to keep her out of the line of fire.

Maybe it'd just been a reflex, but since her own first instinct had been to get them to safety, get _him_ to safety, maybe they'd have to reevaluate their feelings for one another. Move their status from hate to very strong dislike?

No, it was more than that. Only someone she cared about could provoke all those feelings. The hate, the anger, the frustration, the confusion, the hurt, the lust.

She sighed. Maybe they should talk, like, really talk to each other. About their situation and more importantly about their feelings. But not now, because a) he was nowhere to be seen and b) her head was killing her.

In record time she got ready for bed, opting to keep her sweatpants and the baggy t-shirt she'd stolen from Oliver's dresser on even though she usually slept in shorts and tank tops. Her decision had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the t-shirt totally smelled like Oliver! She rummaged through the drawers and found a orange plastic container with the word 'aspirin' crossed out, but 'pain' scribbled right beneath it. Close enough. Thank God! She swallowed two pills and walked over to the king-sized bed.

She hesitated for a second before climbing on it and leaning against the headboard, swiping lazily over her tablet. She didn't just want to make the unilateral decision that she'd be sleeping in Oliver's bed, so she decided to wait for him to come home and discuss this with him. Maybe she could sneak into one of the other guest rooms or something. As long as she didn't have to sleep on that awful and uncomfortable couch.

Ten minutes later, she felt the pain killers kicking in, soothing away the throbbing pain in her skull and the twinge from the stitches in her leg. A glance at the clock told her it was nearing midnight, surely, Oliver couldn't be long now. She just had to keep her drooping eyes open for a few more minutes.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

When Felicity woke up, it was 2 o'clock... in the afternoon. Someone had moved her under the covers of the bed and placed her glasses on the bedside table together with her tablet at some point during the night.

Tiredly, she ran her fingers over her face, taking in the rest of the room. There was a tray of food on the desk in the corner, but other than that there was no indication that anybody else had been in the room. Nothing to indicate Oliver had come home, even though she had a feeling that he'd been the one to move her under the covers. Who else was strong enough to lift her?

She spent the rest of the day lounging around the room, trying to find her stuff among Oliver's things and generally avoiding everybody else in the house. By the time she had to get ready for the usual Sunday night family dinner, there was still no sign of Oliver. Where the hell was he? He couldn't possibly still be with the police. That had already sounded like a flimsy excuse yesterday.

Finally, she couldn't put off the dinner any longer, especially with Grammy being there, so she opted for a colorful summer dress and made her way down the stairs, trying not to show her limp too much.

As soon as she reached the dining room, she was bombarded with questions. Was she hurt? Why was she limping? Where did she go last night? Where had she been all day? Why hadn't Oliver been with her when she came home last night? And speaking of Oliver, where was he? Did he come home last night?

She opened her mouth to answer when Oliver's voice sounded from the door. “Guys, would you please stop pestering her? She probably has a headache from hell from that nasty fall last night.” He came up behind her and slung his arms around her waist pulling her to his chest before dropping a kiss to her exposed shoulder and then to her cheek. Right, Grammy was there, so loving husband mode it was. “Hey, babe,” he breathed against her neck.

That man should seriously come with a warning label. Or just a warning in general to help her steel herself for his lips because holy hell! Those gorgeous, full lips that left blazing trails of fire in their wake.

Instinctively, even though theoretically this should go against every instinct in her body, she leaned back into him. She just couldn't resist. She couldn't deny that being in his arms empowered her, gave her a feeling of complete and utter safety. There was just something about the way he held her that made her feel like... home. And that right there scared her more than anything else. She was losing her grip on her feelings.

“Well, since you haven't seen each other all day, how about we give you a minute or two,” Moira suggested and pushed the rest of her family gently towards the dining table.

“Thanks, mom,” Oliver said from where he had rested his chin on Felicity's shoulder, his stubble scratching her skin lightly. Once the others were out of ear shot, he turned her around, searching her eyes once she was facing him, still entrapped in his arms. “How are you? How are your leg and head?”

The softness of his voice took her slightly aback and she took a second to answer, “I'm okay, a little sore, but I took some pain killers last night that I found in your bathroom, so the pain is manageable.”

He furrowed his brows in confusion. “Pain killers?”

“Yeah, well, I could only find a bottle of Aspirin, so I took a couple of those. I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have gone through your stuff, but Thea moved all of my things and I can't seem to find anything anymore, and my head was killing me, so...” she let out in a rush.

To her surprise, he wasn't pissed at her. On the contrary, actually. He huffed out a laugh. “Felicity, those were _not_ aspirins.”

Now it was her turn to furrow her brows. “What? What were they then?”

“Oxycodone.”

“What?” she asked harshly. “Why do you even have Oxycodone? And why the hell would you keep them in an aspirin bottle?”

“A doctor prescribed them to me after I was in an accident last year,” he said, carefully choosing his words.

With a pang of sadness she realized that she hadn't known that he'd been in an accident. While she'd done a certain amount of... research on him, she'd consciously skipped hacking into the hospital database. That had seemed like a line she didn't want to cross, that she had no right to cross, especially after hearing rumors about the injuries he'd sustained on that island.

If she'd learned one thing about Oliver in the last six months, it was that he didn't like to talk, especially with his family, so instead of pressing the issue, she opted for another question that she'd been itching to ask. “Why didn't you stay last night?”

A sliver of surprise passed through his eyes. “How do you know I was here?”

She let out a soft sigh. “You moved me under the covers and put my things away which I'm actually really grateful for because once, I destroyed a pair of my glasses while sleeping in them.” She saw the amused look on Oliver's face. “Which is totally beside the point. Now that we've established that you were indeed there, why didn't you stay?”

“I...” he started and then shook his head slightly. “I don't know. I didn't want to wake you and I wasn't sure what to do. The couch isn't exactly comfortable and you were in the bed, so...”

She nodded in understanding. “I guess we'll have to have a talk about that stuff later.”

“Yeah, we do.”

“Come on, you two lovebirds, dinner's ready,” Thea called over from the table.

With more reluctance than she'd ever admit to have, she stepped out of his embrace, instantly feeling the loss of his fingers on her hips. What was this man doing to her? With just a single touch or whispered word he had her turning into a puddle of emotions. No man she'd ever been with had made her feel this way. Not a single one of them had even come close to this. Whatever the hell _this_ was.

Dinner was spent dodging questions about the previous night and ignoring Grammy's innuendos. That woman needed to get a hobby other than pestering her and Oliver about their first child. Moira finally took pity on them when her mother-in-law was starting to talk about ideal sex positions to conceive.

Felicity took that opportunity to excuse herself from the table. “I have to prep some things for work tomorrow, so...”

“Nonsense, honey,” Grammy interrupted her. “You're not going to work tomorrow, not while some guy is running around shooting at our family.”

Felicity looked around the table and was only met with agreeing nods. Oliver's expression was stony. “You agree with this?” she asked incredulously.

“There _is_ a security threat against our family,” he said slowly. “I wanted to talk to you about this later.”

“Well, how about we talk now?” she asked with a defiant edge added to her tone. “I am not going to put my life on hold because some psychopath shot me.” _Shit._ She had _not_ meant to say that. “Shot _at_ me. At _us_ ,” she corrected herself quickly.

“I'm not asking you to put your life on hold, just to take some precautions,” he countered.

“Precautions like hiding out in this freaking castle of yours? No, thank you,” she said and got up from her seat. “Now, if you will all excuse me, I have to get ready for tomorrow.”

Of course, Oliver was hot on her limping heels and grabbed her hand to stop her before she could take two steps. Damn him and his long, gorgeous legs.

“No, you're not,” he growled and there was a finality in his tone that just pissed her off. “You're not going anywhere tomorrow.”

She tried to tug her hand free from his grip, but her efforts were futile. “You have absolutely _no_ right to make that decision for me.”

“Yes, I do, and for once you will listen to me, do as I say and stay home tomorrow.”

“Do as you... Are you fucking kidding me?” she questioned indignantly, ignoring four sharp intakes of breath from the table. “If you remember our wedding, I did _not_ promise to obey you, so how about you take your presumptuousness and put it where the sun don't shine?!”

And no, she hadn't included that particular part in her vows, fighting everyone and their mother who dared to suggest otherwise. Being forced to marry Oliver was one thing, vowing before God and their loved ones to _obey_ him, was another. One that she couldn't and simply wouldn't go through with. That shit was just too archaic and caveman-y for her liking.

Oliver let out a frustrated groan. “Why do you always have to be so fucking difficult?”

“I'm not being difficult, I'm being resolute,” she retorted defiantly.

“Same difference.”

“Oliver, I don't care what you think. This is my life and this is my choice. So I will go to work tomorrow and you will deal with it. End of discussion.”

She stared up at him and wow, he was pissed off. Like seriously pissed off. He looked like he needed to punch something. His grip fastened for a split second before he suddenly let go, turned around and stormed out of the room.

It was silent for a few very awkward seconds in which Felicity realized that she'd just cursed like a sailor in front of her new family. _Nice, Smoak, really nice._

Finally, Grammy walked up to her and patted her arm sympathetically. “The first fight as a married couple is always bad. He'll calm down soon.”

It took Felicity every ounce of willpower to not start laughing loudly. 'First fight', yeah right. More like the hundred and first.

She made a dismissive hand motion. “We'll... sort it out,” she answered carefully and pointed her thumb towards the door. “I'm gonna head out though.” She hesitated for a second. “Sorry, you had to hear all that.”

“No marriage is perfect, my dear, especially if it comes as quickly as yours did. We're all aware of that,” Grammy told her.

Oh, she didn't even know half of it.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

She didn't go looking for him and he didn't come looking for her. That was not how their relationship worked. They might not like each other, but they could respect it when either one needed some time to cool down.

She'd chosen to retreat to their wing's library, armed with a bottle of wine and some priceless first edition. This was probably her favorite place in the whole house. Just being surrounded by the smell of old books and thinking about all the stories that lay hidden between the layers upon layers of pages. She loved her tablets and computers, but there was just something about holding an actual book that she loved more than anything her tech could ever give her.

As it was nearing 10.30, her eyes started to get heavy and she knew she couldn't avoid facing her grumpy husband any longer, so she made her way back to their... to _his_ room.

For one gratifying minute she sat alone on his bed, contemplating what to do. Should she wait for him? Should she just go to bed and avoid him as long as humanly possible? Suddenly, the bathroom door swung open and Oliver stepped out, a towel slung low around his hips, walking towards the walk-in closet.

Holy shit.

 _Do_ not _stare. Just don't look at him,_ she kept chanting to herself, but her efforts were futile. The guy already looked like a fucking Adonis when he was fully clothed. Now, only covered by a towel that hung oh so low on his hips, it was all she could do to not run over to him and jump his bones.

The scars scattered over his body were visible even in the low lighting of the room. A shudder ran through her, thinking about what could've possibly happened to him on that godforsaken island to brand him like this.

She must've made a noise because all of the sudden his head shot up and whipped around to where she was perched on his bed. Oh shit.

“Like what you see?” he asked with a cocky smile, quickly pushing away the surprise that was written over his face.

Felicity swallowed hard and decided to ignore his question. “How about you put on some clothes so we can have that talk,” she suggested, voice only a little higher than usual.

“I'm think I'm good like this,” he said and walked slowly towards her. How could he make that simple statement sound like a threat and a promise at the same time?

“Oliver,” she hissed as he lifted his hands from where they'd been securing the towel to cross his arms over his chest. “Put some pants on. Now.”

“Why?” he challenged, standing right in front of her.

Because I'm about to tear that towel away and let you fuck me 'till I can't walk straight anymore.

“Because our arguments tend to get… a little heated.”

The smug bastard shot her a cocky grin while sitting down right next to her on the bed, facing her, towel-covered thigh touching her bare knee. “So we're going to argue again? Is that a promise?”

Would there ever be a time when things with him weren't going to be hot and cold? Not two hours ago they'd been at each other's throats and now he was being all playful and flirty and fucking infuriating.

“Or maybe I'm just distracting you like this? Is it hard for you to concentrate when your husband is sitting in front of you basically naked? Do I make you nervous?” he asked and his voice was just a slow whisper in the night, his eyes twinkling with lust and a clear challenge.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips while she tried to think of a way to get out of this. “That's...” True. “Ridiculous.”

“Is it?” he questioned without missing a beat. His arms dropped from his chest, one hand landing on her bare ankle, sending jolts of electricity through her body.

“Yes,” she insisted, but instead of sounding as resolute as she wanted, the single word turned into a hiss when his fingertips started moving up her leg ever so slowly.

Her eyes shot up to his from where his fingers ran long lines over her skin from her ankles to her knees. He was watching her with an intensity that took her breath away. She leaned forward and covered his wandering hands with her own. He had to stop this or else...

“Oliver,” his name dropped from her lips in the barest of whispers and she hated how weak she sounded. How needy and breathless. “Stop.”

His hands stilled on her knee and his head tilted a little to the side, brows furrowed in question.

“I... I can't... You can't...” She trailed off, not sure how to express her feelings, her concerns. She cast her eyes down to where their hands were connected. This felt so right. The warmth emitting from his fingers, spreading through her entire body. It felt right and yet this was so wrong.

The sheer amount of feelings she harbored for this man was scary. It wasn't supposed to be like this. There _weren't_ supposed to be feelings involved in this deal. This was strictly meant to save her family's company and not make her fall for a guy she despised. He embodied everything she hated about their mutual social circle of the idle rich: the partying, the recklessness, the disregard of consequences, throwing money at any given problem. She hated it. That's why, years ago, she'd tried to leave as much of that life behind as possible.

Her mother had shipped her off to a junior boarding school as soon as she'd started 3rd grade. There, Felicity had excelled in all of her studies, skipping a few grades before graduating as the youngest student in the history of her school. In all of her time there, she never went home for more than a week around Christmas. Her summers were spent in computer camps or with her grandparents, far away from her mother. She never had time for her daughter anyway, always working, or traveling around the world.

Of course, Felicity knew that her family's name and money were two factors that had enabled her scholastic career. So every year when her mother's financial people had transferred her the money to pay for her college tuition she'd donated all of it and instead created a false identity for herself to apply for a student loan. She'd looked for part time jobs close to campus and had lived a normal student life, far away from her trust fund, and it had been the best decision she'd ever made. She'd made a ton of friends who didn't care about her last name, she'd fallen in love and had her heart broken, she'd lived off of Ramen noodles for days on end if she ran out of money at the end of the month. A perfectly imperfect time as a student.

Oliver on the other hand had dropped out of no less than four Ivy League colleges and had partied and no doubt man-whored his way around most US states. He'd been arrested twice and had been a regular feature in tabloids all over the country before he'd been lost at sea. Sure, following his return from the dead, things had somewhat calmed down. He'd made less public appearances and kept a low profile overall, apparently focusing on his work with QC. Even though that was absolutely ridiculous. He had no business know-how whatsoever, so letting him even close to the executive floor was ludicrous.

And yet, with all the things she hated about his behavior and reputation, she'd also gotten glimpses of another side of him. A softer, more playful and open side that she found so very intriguing and dare she say even likeable. But he was making it hard to see that side because he was always hiding behind different masks. He was the dutiful son, the closed off business man, the husband. _Her_ husband in all his angry, jealous, cold, passionate, sexy, sometimes even affectionate glory. And it was frustrating and infuriating and she just couldn't take it anymore. Keeping up with him and holding her own against him was just fucking exhausting and she knew she couldn't keep this up much longer without starting to crumble.

Warm, calloused fingers curled around her cheek and pressed lightly so she would look up. When she did, she was met by Oliver's questioning blue orbs.

“Talk to me, Felicity,” he urged her in a low, soft voice.

She sighed softly. “You... me... this dance we've been doing for the past six months. It's too much. I can't...” She shook her head slightly, trying to sort through her thoughts. “I don't know what we're doing, where this is going. I don't know what to do with my... feelings.”

Oliver regarded her with an intense look. “What do you feel?”

“I don't know,” she breathed out and shook her head, never breaking eye contact. “I just know that there is _more_. More than I ever expected or wanted and I don't know what to do with it. I don't know how _you_ feel. If the constant hot and cold, and all of this”–she motioned vaguely between them–“is just a game to you or if there's more going on. And I'm just _so_ tired of fighting all the time.”

He nodded slowly in understanding, but Felicity could see the frustration in his eyes that probably mirrored her own perfectly.

“Maybe we need to start over, get to know each other,” he said after a long pause before dropping his hand from her face, holding it out in front of her. “Hi, I'm Oliver Queen.”

Felicity stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to do and then his gaze flickered down to his outstretched hand before raising an amused eyebrow. Her lips curled up in a smile and she grabbed his hand in hers. “Felicity... Queen, nice to meet you,” she finally replied, wondering where he was going with this.

There was a spark of unadulterated possessiveness in his eyes that she'd seen many times before, whenever she introduced herself as his wife, only this time he didn't try to hide it. “It's very nice to meet you, too,” he said smoothly. “I know this may sound a bit abrupt, but I'd really like to take you out some time to get to know you better. Coffee, maybe?”

There was the lightness that she'd only seen glimpses of so far. His light tone combined with the genuine smile gracing his gorgeous lips, made her heart melt just a little bit. This was the Oliver Queen that she wanted to see more of. The one she wanted to get to know.

She pursed her lips playing along with the scenario. “Mhh, I don't know. You seem like someone who likes to spill coffee on other people's things. Maybe we should try something less dangerous.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Well, we have this amazing kitchen that nobody ever uses. If you bring the wine I'll cook us dinner.”

The playfulness in his gaze was briefly replaced by genuine surprise. “You can cook?” he questioned.

She shot him a grin. “I probably can't compete with what Raisa cooks for us, but yeah, I know my way around the kitchen.”

“Okay then,” he returned her grin. “It's a date, Mrs. Queen.”

“It is indeed, Mr. Queen. Now put on some pants and get into bed,” she ordered.

He huffed out a laugh. “That's not what women usually say to me.”

She flicked his arm lightly. “Well, I'm not just any other woman. You’d do well to remember that, Mr. Queen.”

He groaned. “You really need to stop saying my name like that.”

“Why?” she asked innocently.

“Because it makes me want to rip off that dress and fuck you seven ways from Sunday,” he growled.

She swallowed hard. “Is that a promise?” she echoed his words from earlier.

He got up, securing the towel with one hand, while the other still held hers. “Definitely, Mrs. Queen.”

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title translation: "If you want peace, prepare for the war."


	6. Quod cito acquiritur cito perit

****⁂ ⁂ ⁂** **

Oliver was sitting in his office, staring out the window into the cloudy sky over Starling City. Usually, June tended to bring better weather, but today, it had been murky the whole time. A gray, cloudy day that seemed to drag on forever. But there was also a silver lining to all this. Or maybe rather a blonde lining. Tonight after work, he would have his date night with Felicity.

Last night, he'd reluctantly agreed to her adamant choice to go into the office today, despite the security threat. He had Diggle and his men on high alert, even going so far as posting a bodyguard on the IT floor. That had been his condition last night and to his surprise she'd quickly agreed to it. That gave him hope. It showed him that she was trying just as much as he was. Both of them compromising instead of picking a fight again. It was definitely a step in the right direction.

Of course, there'd been an awkward moment last night when she'd emerged from the bathroom after getting ready for bed. He'd been propped up against the headboard, pretending to read a book while she cautiously made her way over to his bed. _His_ freaking bed. He'd tried hard to remember if he'd ever shared his bed or any bed for that matter with a woman in a platonic way. He'd come up with nothing.

With a profound blush on her cheeks that made him smile, she'd quickly gotten under the covers on what she had claimed as her side of the bed. Absentmindedly, he'd wondered if she'd changed the bandage on her leg. He'd been itching to ask to take a look at it to make sure it wasn't infected or anything, but feared that it would look too suspicious. He still wasn't sure how much she remembered of what had happened.

With a sigh he ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the clock on his computer screen. It was almost 6. Almost time to go home. Almost time for his date with Felicity. He felt a tingling sensation all over his body and with a frown he realized that he was... nervous.

And that was utterly ridiculous, wasn't it? He was going on a date with a woman he was already married to. It shouldn't be a big deal. Except, it was. It was a huge deal. It might well be a make or break moment in their relationship. This date could mean the difference between fighting for the rest of his life or actually trying to find happiness with her. It meant _everything_.

He was just turning off his computer, getting ready to pick her up in the IT department when his phone started ringing, her name flashing across the screen.

With a smile he picked up, "Hey, you ready to leave? I was just about to come pick you up." Okay, so maybe he sounded like a lovesick teenager before his first date. So what?

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Felicity?" he asked, concern immediately taking over his body.

"Yeah, sorry," she finally answered and took a deep breath. "I... I won't be able to make it tonight." She paused for a second and Oliver could basically hear the wheels turning in her head. "Which sounds really weird because we were going to do this at home. And by _this_ I mean have dinner, not something..." She let out a frustrated sigh.

His heart sank just a little bit. "You're canceling? Did I..." He trailed off, racking his brain to find a reason for her to cancel their date so short notice.

"No, no, no," she quickly interjected. "This has nothing to do with you. Some idiot manged to download a major virus into the QC system and now my whole department is clocking overtime to try and contain the damage just because some asshat wanted to look at celebrity nude photos." She let out another exasperated sigh. "I was really looking forward to tonight, but my boss is on vacation, so right now I'm the head of the department and I can't just leave. I'm sorry."

He nodded slowly, swallowing his disappointment. "Yeah, no, that's... I understand." More or less.

"Oliver," she breathed out. "This is really not how I saw tonight going. I hope you know that."

He closed his eyes. "I have some paperwork to finish. How about I check up on you when I'm done?" Great, now he was lying and grasping at straws at the same time.

"That's really sweet," she said and he could hear the smile in her voice.

"But..." he prompted.

"But you should head home. This could be an all-nighter for me."

He clenched his jaw. "Who's the guy who downloaded the virus?" he bit out.

His angry tone was met by an amused chuckle. "Unless the virus turns out to have caused serious problems, you're not going to fire him. Plus, I've already read him the riot act. Believe me, he won't dare to think about looking at those photos even on his home computer."

 _That's my girl_ , he thought proudly, a big grin forming on his lips.

"Fine," he gave in. "How many others are there with you and can we get more to speed this up?"

She huffed out a laugh. "It's all hands on deck. I got a ton of IT specialists working on it and even more coming in. We'll get on top of this as quickly as possible. Rain check on our date?"

"Yeah, how about tomorrow?" he asked without missing a beat, hating how desperate he sounded, but he really wanted this. Wanted to have a real date with her that both of them actually wanted to be on without being forced by their obligations. Just be Oliver and Felicity for one night, leave everything else behind.

"Tomorrow's Tuesday."

"So?"

"So that's Tommy Tuesday," she explained cautiously.

"Tommy Tuesday? Are you kidding me? _Tommy_ Tuesday?" he questioned incredulously.

"Oliver, I really gotta go. Just talk to him and see what he has planned and if he's willing to give it up." Someone called her name loudly in the background. "Shit," she cursed. "Talk to you later, Oliver."

Before he could say anything, she'd already hung up. He plopped back down into his chair and couldn't deny the feeling of utter disappointment that was settling in. He hadn't quite realized how much he was looking forward to tonight until it had been ripped from his grasp. It stung a little that she'd chosen work over spending time with him and yet, deep down he knew that he couldn't fault her for doing her job.

He brought up his phone and quickly dialed his best friend's number. Maybe he could at least convince him of ditching tomorrow night's plans.

"Dude, what's up? Nervous about your date tonight?" Came Tommy's chipper voice over the phone.

"Uh, actually that's not going to happen tonight."

"Wait, what? I swear if this is one of your games and you just wanted to hurt Felicity, I _will_ cause you bodily harm," Tommy exclaimed furiously before muttering under his breath, "Not sure I'd survive that endeavor, but whatever."

Oliver let out a chuckle. "She canceled on me, man. Not the other way around. She's tied up here at work, so..."

"I'm sorry, Ollie, that sucks. And sorry for jumping to conclusions."

"Yes, it does suck. But that's actually why I'm calling. I suggested just moving the date to tomorrow, but apparently you have dibs on Tuesdays. Any chance you'll let me enjoy a night with my wife instead?" Oliver asked hopefully, ignoring the fact that he'd turned into a pining teenager again.

After a long pause Tommy answered slowly, "If it were any other Tuesday night I would have gladly relinquished Tommy Tuesdays to you, but tomorrow is something I've been planning to surprise her with ever since I got to know her. Can't you just move your date to Wednesday? Or pull her from her work stuff and surprise her with dinner?" He paused for a second. "Yeah, no, on second thought don't do that. She'd kill you if you tore her away from her beloved computers."

"So that's a definite 'no' for tomorrow?"

"Yes, that's a no. I really don't mean to rain on your parade, but Felicity and I have been talking about this concert for months now and she was so bummed when she couldn't get any tickets and..."

"It's fine, Tommy," Oliver interrupted his friend. "I'll think of something else."

They bid their goodbyes and Oliver leaned back in his chair, trying and failing to ignore the stabbing pain in his heart. Was it really too much to ask for a night alone with his wife? He got that he couldn't blame either one of them for having plans that didn't include him. Felicity and Tommy's friendship had come as quick and easy as her hatred for him. He'd always marveled at how they were around each other. There was a certain lightness to their constant teasing and bantering that he longed for

 

 **⁂**  
⁂ ⁂  
**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

**\- March 2013 -**

_Oliver leaned back against the wall of the mansion's ball room, cradling a tumbler of whiskey in one hand._

_The room was filled with Starling's elite. Everybody who is anybody had been basically willing to saw off one of their limbs to get an invitation to Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak's engagement party. Despite it only being March, it was already deemed to be one of two parties that year that you simply couldn't miss. The second one would be their wedding._

_He hated all this pretentious glad-handing with people he didn't even know. They all expected to see his reformed playboy persona, the one that was taking on responsibilities in his family's company, and finally taking life more seriously. While that was of course closer to the truth than the playboy he used to be, it still meant putting on a mask. And it was exhausting._

_His gaze swept over the room until his eyes caught on a blood red dress. Felicity. She was standing on the far side of the room, talking to Thea and Laurel._

_He sighed. That was probably a disaster waiting to happen._

_Tommy stepped up to the trio and whispered something in Laurel's ear who rolled her eyes in response, but nodded mutely. He grabbed Felicity's hand and dragged her towards the door, ignoring her surprised protests. Oliver narrowed his eyes. What was going on? A glance at his sister and Laurel showed him that they weren't even fazed by this. Whatever the hell_ this _was._

_He was surprised to even see Tommy here. Finding out about Oliver's secret very recently had put a strain on their friendship that he wasn't sure they could recover from. His best friend had avoided him at all costs, even considering not working at Verdant anymore._

_He downed his whiskey and followed his best friend and fiancée quietly. They were heading towards the kitchen, apparently not noticing that they were being followed. Once in the kitchen, he saw Tommy hop onto the counter and drop a grape in his mouth, before Oliver sought cover behind the door._

"W _hat do you want, Tommy? I have guests to get back to," Felicity said exasperatedly._

" _Well, I'm one of those guests and I wanna get to know you. Tell me something about yourself, Felicity Smoak," Tommy replied in a chipper tone."I find it suspicious that I haven't yet met the woman that my best friend will marry in two months. Why do you think that is?"_

" _Because your best friend's secretive and has shitty manners?" she deadpanned without missing a beat._

_Tommy chuckled in response. "That goes without saying, but it doesn't explain this. Are you pregnant?"_

" _Wh.. What?" she spluttered._

_He sighed. "I feel like there's more to this whole story than Oliver has told me. Before he... went away, he was rash and impulsive and I might have expected a sudden marriage back then, but now? Ever since coming back, he's changed. Marrying you after knowing you for five minutes doesn't match his recent behavior. So my question is: are you pregnant?"_

_She'd obviously recovered from her initial shock because she laughed at his question this time. "That would require us having sex first, so no, I'm not pregnant."_

_There was a short pause before Tommy asked, "Wait, you haven't slept with him yet? You're seriously marrying a man without... testing the goods? Is this some religious thing? Because let me just tell you that you do not look like a virgin."_

" _I am actually."_

_What?_

" _What? Shut the front door," Tommy expressed his surprise._

" _Sheesh, calm down, Merlyn, I was just kidding," she said with a laugh. "I am a Virgo though, that's close enough, right?_

_Tommy let out a groan. "You're devious, Smoak. The spawn of evil."_

" _I'm not going to argue with that."_

" _So I'm guessing you won't tell me anything?_

" _Nope," she said, popping the 'p'. "It's not my place to tell you." She paused for a second and when she spoke again her tone was teasing. "So did you enjoy the German beer?"_

" _German beer? You mean the gigantic shipment of beer we got at the club even though we definitely didn't order it?" he questioned. "No way. No_ fucking _way. That was you? That whole week of shit happening to Oliver, that was you?!"_

" _Maybe," she answered and God, what he would give to see her face right then. When he'd confronted her during their first date she'd worn such a smug grin and it had been so fucking sexy that he'd wanted to wipe it away by kissing those lush lips._

" _I'm not sure if I should be impressed or terrified," Tommy exclaimed and let out a disbelieving laugh before sobering, "You were really hard on him."_

" _Yeah, because he was being a dick," she argued. "He deserved it.."_

_There was another pause. "I like you, Smoak, and I think you'll be good for him," Tommy finally said seriously._

_Oh?_

" _Why is that?"_

" _He's... going through some stuff right now and he needs someone in his life to... guide him. And you're not taking any of his shit. That's good. I think that's exactly what he needs. Someone who's not afraid to stand up to him and tell him how it is even if he has a different opinion," his best friend said cautiously._

" _I'll believe when I see it," she trailed off for a second. "This was fun and all Tommy, but I really do have guests to get back to, so if you'll excuse me."_

" _Hey, Smoak?" he called after her, and Oliver retreated further into the shadows as she stopped right next to where he was hidden. "Can you get me out of a parking ticket?"_

_Her only reply was a bark of laughter._

_He waited until Tommy left, too, and stepped out of his hiding place._

_Why the hell was she nice to every single person in his life with the only exception being, well,_ him _?_

_They'd gone on a few more public dates and had some more meetings with their lawyers to hash out the details of their prenup and some other contracts within the two companies since their first date. Every time they were in public, she was charming and funny and so goddamn sexy. He was pretty sure her skirts were getting shorter and shorter with every date they went on, driving him mad with lust for her. But as soon as they were alone in a room or out of earshot of anyone who cared, she was as feisty and belligerent as ever._

_Tommy was definitely right in his assessment of her. She didn't take any of his shit and always expressed her opinions, no matter how different they were from his. He wasn't used to that, and more than once she'd left him speechless with her sheer determination._

_He was sure that the tension between them would boil over at some point, changing their relationship, even though he wasn't sure if would get better or worse. The only thing he was sure of was that she liked the teasing and fighting between them. There was always that spark of_ something _in her eyes when she stood her ground against him. That fierceness and resoluteness mixed with just a trace of lust and passion._

_He couldn't deny feeling the same way. She brought out a rawness in him that he loved and hated at the same time. While all the sexually charged emotions between them were fun and all he also had to admit that he was jealous of the easy going relationships she had so quickly formed with everybody around him. Would he ever have that with her?_

**\- End of flashback -  
**

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂  
**⁂ ⁂****  
**⁂**

 

He pulled himself out of the memory. He loved his best friend and he was glad that they'd gotten past their differences about his nightly activities, but it had always bugged him a little bit how easily Tommy's friendship with Felicity had come along while he could barely talk to her for more than one minute before getting his balls served on a platter.

But he was intent on changing that. On Changing the way she saw him. Their date was the first step to that. So he figured that, basically, he had two options: wait until Wednesday for his date with Felicity, or don't wait and possibly risk her wrath tonight.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

He was leaned over the little table in the sitting area of his office, putting the finishing touches to the set up when he heard someone knock on the glass door.

"Hi, I'm Felicity, I was called up to fix your computer prob-..." He turned around to face her with a mischievous grin. "O.. Oliver? What's going on?"

He slowly walked over to her, took the tablet from her hands to place it on his desk before taking one of her hands in his, never breaking eye contact.

The confused frown on her forehead deepened when he slowly pulled her over to the sitting area. "Oliver, what are you... Oh," she breathed out when he stepped a little to the side so she could see what he'd set up.

He'd arranged the food he'd had delivered from Table Salt all over the glass coffee table. Since he hadn't been sure what she liked he'd just told the chef to give him samples of everything. And Chef Mario definitely had delivered. Just the smell alone of the various dishes was to die for. There was a bottle of red wine along with glasses, and even some candles strewn in between the different delicacies.

He led her around the couch, pulling her down to sit next to him. "I thought you probably haven't eaten yet and that you might need a break from all the computer stuff."

She opened and closed her mouth before huffing out a breath of air. "You ordered the pizzas for the IT department that arrived just now," she said and shook her head. "Look, this is... incredibly sweet of you, but I really have to go back."

Like so many times when she was concerned, he failed to contain his reaction and he stared down at his feet so she couldn't see the disappointment in his eyes. Tommy had been right, nothing could get in between her and her work. "I'm sorry. I didn't really think this through. I didn't want to wait until Wednesday for our date and I guess I kinda jumped the gun on this," he mumbled.

Warm fingers found their way to cup his scruffy cheeks, making him look up. "Stop moping around. I'll have dinner with you right now, but I can't stay too long, okay?" she asked softly and damnit he couldn't help but smile at her.

"I'm not moping around," he said, faux indignation in his voice.

She patted his cheek lightly before turning towards the food. "Whatever you say, Mopey."

Oliver just shook his head in defeat. She could call him whatever she wanted as long as she had dinner with him. God, he was so fucking whipped.

"Wine?" he asked as he watched her bite enthusiastically into a piece of focaccia. She nodded and shot him a small smile.

For a while, they ate in a surprisingly comfortable silence that was only interrupted by Felicity's appreciative moans and whispered "oh my God"'s whenever she tried a new dish. Oliver had his hands full with not thinking about the other appreciative moans he'd heard from her, willing himself to keep his mind focused on the here and now.

"This food is amazing," Felicity finally broke the silence, looking up at him. "What?" she asked with a coy smile.

"I was assuming as much, just judging by your... enthusiasm," he replied and took a sip of his wine.

She socked him in the shoulder lightly. "Shut up. You ordered this orgasmic food, so don't complain."

"Orgasmic food," he repeated, barely able to contain his laughter. "I'm pretty sure that if food is getting you anywhere close to an orgasm, there's something seriously going wrong in your life," he mused with a lopsided grin on his lips.

"Well... it's been a while, so how about you let me have my blissful happy ending with that tiramisu I spotted on the far end of the table?" she replied playfully.

He shook his head in amusement. "You know, I could always help out with that," he said, slowly running his fingers up her arm.

A bark of laughter was not what he expected. "Oh, I have absolutely no doubt about that," she quipped.

Of course, she would shoot down his offer. Not that he'd been serious.

Okay, fine, he'd been a little serious. Or at least not opposed to the possibility of scratching her itch. But at the same time, he knew that they weren't ready to take that step yet, despite the very tangible sexual attraction between them. He wanted to do this right. Needed to do this right. So getting to know her better was the first thing on his agenda.

"So how do you wanna do this?" she questioned and successfully pulled him out of his thoughts.

"I... do what?" he asked, dumbfounded. Was she talking about...?

" _Really_?" she arched her eyebrow. "Of course your mind just went _there_. You're a guy after all. I meant the _date_. How do you wanna do this? The food is great and don't get me started on the wine, but I'll have to leave in"–she glanced at her watch–"20 or so minutes, so you should really start bringing your A-game, otherwise I'd have to be inclined to think that all those stories about your irresistible charm are just made up." Her tone was sweet and playful and at the same time challenging, and God help him, he wanted to kiss that smug grin off her face.

He shook his head again, echoing her laughter. "Can you blame me? You look amazing and for once you're not trying to bite my head off," he lifted his hands defensively in front of him.

"Fair enough. So what's your go-to line on a first date?"

"I won't even try that on you. It wouldn't work anyway," he admitted and then sobered, taking her hand in his. "How about we aim for the truth instead?" She nodded mutely. "I want you to know that I'm serious about this. I really want get to know you better, not just because of our situation, but because from what I've seen and what others have told me about you I can tell that you're a remarkable woman and I want to get to know the side of you that isn't eternally pissed at me."

He saw her searching his eyes, could practically hear the wheels churning in her head, trying to discern if he was being honest. After a second she swallowed and squeezed his hand. "Okay," she whispered.

"Okay," he repeated, a smile forming on his lips.

"But," she started and bit her lip, "I need some rules for this, for us, if we're really going to try this."

He nodded slowly, drawing his eyebrows together. "Yeah, we can have rules if you want. What do you have in mind?"

"I know that we had an agreement to see other people, but..."

"That won't be a problem," he quickly cut in, taking her other hand in his, too. "There's never been anyone else."

She sucked in a breath before finding her voice again. "Oh, that... I didn't think..."

He silenced her by tugging on her hands, intertwining their fingers. "What else?"

"I want you to be honest with me," she said with new found strength. "You can tell me if you don't want to talk about something, but please don't lie to me."

Oh boy.

He couldn't say 'no' to her. Not now. Not when they were finally making progress. But he knew he'd be walking a very thin line with all of his Hood stuff going on. Maybe he should just tell her now.

Her phone beeped and after a quick glance at the screen she said, "I have to go back, they're wondering what's taking me so long." She sighed and moved to get up. "How do you feel about dessert in bed?"

He suppressed a groan. What was it with this woman and dropping suggestions like that left and right? "That's the best kind," he replied hoarsely while he let himself be pulled over to the door, never breaking eye contact. Walking backwards, she slowly led him towards the elevators, tablet in one hand, her small fingers steadily clutching his.

"Well, that was fun," he said when they finally reached the bank of elevators. "Wanna do it again some time?"

"Mh, you mean go on a second date with you?" she asked, pretending to think about it. "I'll have to check my schedule."

He huffed out a laugh. "You do that and let me know."

The elevator pinged behind her and the doors slid open, but she made no move to step into it, looking up at him with her big blue eyes. "Are you going to kiss me?" she asked, tilting her head slightly to the side in question, a sheepish smile playing on her lips.

For the first time in what felt like forever he tore his gaze away from her eyes and lowered it to her lips. He wanted to kiss her. More than anything.

He leaned down, his lips hovering over hers, their hot breaths mingling. At the last possible moment he turned his head and kissed her cheek, keeping his lips locked with her soft skin for a few long seconds. When he pulled away, her eyes were closed, a happy smile illuminating her face.

She stepped inside the elevator, her fingers reluctant to let go of his. "Good choice, Mr. Queen," she whispered just before the doors closed.

He let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Their impromptu date had gone well. Sure, it had been way too short, but he was glad that they'd had a chance to talk a little bit. Tonight, he'd learned something new about Felicity. Behind all the sass and snark and the confident demeanor, was a young woman that was scared of being hurt. By him and his actions.

He couldn't really fault her for thinking about that. His reputation from before the island was still infamous in Starling City. Some people weren't buying the story about him coming home a changed man. Instead, some tabloids still managed to dig up stories about his less than stellar adolescent years or simply made up rumors about him. Rumors that had clearly found their way into Felicity's head if her two conditions for their budding relationship were anything to go by. He hadn't missed her surprised look when he'd told her that he hadn't been with other women since they'd started their arrangement. Her surprise had stung, but more than that it had solidified his suspicion that in reality she was a little bit insecure.

He felt something rise in his chest. He wanted to take those insecurities away from her, make sure that she never doubted him and his intentions when it came to her. He wanted to make her feel loved and cherished. And damn, he wanted to be the man to make her feel that way.

In that moment he knew he had to tell her about The Hood. He had to tell her soon.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

Oliver didn't see her until the next morning. Well, technically he did see her tiptoeing through the darkness when she got home around two in the morning, but he'd decided that he would have looked like a creepy lurker if he'd given any indication that he'd waited up for her.

Last night, he'd wanted to stay at the office until she was ready to go home, but eventually, after receiving some very adamant text messages from her to go home, he'd left and gone to the foundry to work out before finally going back to the mansion.

When he woke up, he felt a wave of disappointment wash over him. Everything was like the morning before. She was tangled in the blanket on her side of the bed. He'd actually hoped that their date had maybe prompted her to seek him out during the night, but it hadn't. One thing he knew for sure though was that sleeping next to her had a profound impact on his sleeping habits. Initially, he'd been reluctant to share a bed with her, not only for the obvious reason of their physical attraction for each other, but more importantly because he was a restless sleeper, barely managed to get more than 4 or 5 hours of sleep per night, and he was still haunted by nightmares that had him waking up screaming and thrashing.

But with Felicity next to him, he found that he could still sleep like a normal person. In the two nights he'd shared his bed with her, he'd slept more soundly than ever, feeling a sense of calm and serenity that he'd never experienced before. What really surprised him was that he felt _safe_.

A groan from the other side made him focus on the disheveled shock of blonde hair next to him. "Please tell me it's in the middle of the night and I still have a few hours to sleep," she said, her voice a little hoarse from disuse.

He couldn't help but chuckle. "Sorry to disappoint, but it's 7.30."

Her curses were muffled by her pillow before she untangled herself from the sheets and sat up. "Can we close the company for today?" she asked with a half smile on her lips as she turned around to look at him.

This was quite possibly the sexiest look on her. Like, _ever_. No make up, hair in a complete disarray, her cheeks tinted with a light blush, her eyes big and disorientated, her voice all husky and sexy, wearing his t-shirt, definitely _not_ wearing a bra. What he would give to be able to just lean over and kiss her right now.

"Not sure about closing the whole company, but you could come in late," he suggested. "You deserve it after last night. Did you fix the problem?"

"Yeah, we did. I'm seriously reconsidering your offer to fire the culprit. His computer was riddled with different viruses that I tracked back to a multitude of porn sites. Now I know more than I ever wanted about this guy's sexual preferences and believe me when I say that it wasn't the fun kind of kink," she replied with a yawn and ran a hand over her face.

"Now you have me concerned about what kind of employees we have at QC," he chuckled. "And just so we're clear: what's the fun kind of kink?" he added with a lazy smile. A split second later, he was whacked in the chest with her pillow.

She ignored his protest and shot him a salacious grin, her gaze drifting appreciatively over his bare chest. "If you're a good boy, I might just tell you one day."

This woman would be his demise. He was just about to retort something when the door swung open. "Good morning, darlings. Hope I'm not interrupting anything," Grammy exclaimed cheerily.

Oliver suppressed an annoyed groan. Of course she was interrupting. Someone always was. For once, he just wanted an uninterrupted moment with his wife. Was that too much to ask for?

"You're up early. What's up, Grammy?" Felicity asked and got up from the bed.

"I wanted to have breakfast with you two. I don't get to see nearly enough of you with you being at work all day, so I thought breakfast would be perfect."

Felicity turned to look at him and he gave her an almost imperceptible nod in confirmation. "Okay, we'll be down in 30?"

"Perfect," Grammy clapped her hands together and turned to close the door. "That gives you more than enough time for a quickie or two."

The door shut close and Felicity and Oliver were left in a stunned silence. When she finally faced him again, her lips were pursed. "How about we just ignore that?"

"Why? Not a fan of quickies?" he asked, arching an eyebrow challengingly.

For a few seconds she just stared at him, the corners of her mouth twitching traitorously before she managed to school her features. "No, actually. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a quick, dirty fuck as much as the next girl, but in the end slow and passionate wins the race every time," she said, her eyes gliding slowly over his body and suddenly a devious smile formed on her lips. "You might wanna take care of that before we go downstairs." She nodded towards his crotch and winked at him before she disappeared into the bathroom.

His eyes dropped down to his lap and sure enough he was sporting a raging hard-on. Great, once again he'd turned into a hormonal teenager who couldn't control his reaction just because she decided to plant various, very graphic mental images into his brain.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

Since he didn't have to go into the office until lunch, he'd gone downstairs wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, while Felicity was still roaming around the closet and bathroom, getting ready for work. He should've waited for her to be done. He realized that as soon as he entered the dining room, and his grandma regarded him with a dirty look and off-handedly said, "That was quick," while sipping her coffee like she hadn't just commented on her grandson's sex life.

Oliver sat through five agonizing minutes of being questioned by his grandmother ("how was it?"), poked fun at by his sister ("yeah, Ollie, tell us everything about it") while his mother and Walter just sat there mutely shaking their heads, apparently ignoring the whole thing.

When Felicity walked in, he jumped up from his seat and raced over to her, dipping his head to press a quick kiss to her cheek. "Please don't ever leave me alone with these people again."

She just shot him a smile and patted his cheek. "They're not that bad."

Famous last words.

She had exactly ten seconds in which she sat down in the chair next to him, greedily taking a sip of her coffee, before Grammy turned towards her.

"You look tired, my dear. Rough night?" she questioned innocently.

Felicity groaned. "Don't even get me started. I'm exhausted. I love what I do, but last night was a stretch even for me."

Oliver's head shot up, wildly looking around the room, meeting four pairs of wide eyes. But Felicity was completely oblivious to the reaction as she calmly buttered her toast and continued, "Everything hurts. My back hurts, my neck hurts, God, my fingers hurt. Actually, I think I might have pulled a muscle from all the exertion."

She took a bite of her toast and continued, "I've seen and done a lot of things in my life, especially in college, but I mean, talk about Trojan horse, just the sheer size of that thing was unbelievable. If I hadn't been so exhausted I would've nailed the man to the wall for how much he screwed me with it." She finally looked up. "What?" she asked, drawing her eye brows together in confusion at the disbelieving looks everyone was giving her. "What did I say?"

Grammy clapped her hands together in excitement. "I see my work here is done. Thea, be a dear and help me find wallpaper patterns on that laptop thingy of yours. I'm guessing we should get started on the nursery."

She left the room with a shell-shocked Thea in tow, and Felicity finally turned her confused gaze to Oliver. "What nursery? What's going on?"

"We'll leave you to it," Walter said graciously and led Moira out of the room, leaving Oliver and Felicity alone in the dining room.

"Oliver?"

 _Like a band-aid_ , he thought to himself, _just rip it off._

"They thought you were talking about sex."

Her face fell. "What? Why would they think that? I was talking about last night's disaster at the office."

"Yeah, I know that, but Grammy was pestering me about the quickie she proposed we should have had earlier. And you kinda played right into her hand with your recollection of last night..."

"Oh my God," she exclaimed, her eyes widening. " _Oh my God._ We have to tell them that... _that_ was _not_ what I was talking about."

Oliver laid his hand on hers. "Pretty sure that's not going to help right now."

"Oh God, I used the words 'horse' and 'size' in the same sentence while they were assuming I was talking about sex... with you."

He couldn't hide the smug grin. "Well, at least you painted the right picture."

She slapped him in the chest. "Oliver."

He just put his hands up in defeat and laughed. "Sorry, couldn't resist." His phone buzzed in his pocket. "Digg's here to take you to work. Come on, I'll show you out," he said and took her hand in his to pull her towards he door, grabbing her duffle bag on the way that she'd deposited there earlier.

"I can't believe you didn't stop me," she grumbled and was opening the front door to leave, but Oliver tugged on her fingers lightly, stopping her from leaving. She turned to face him with a questioning look.

"Stop by my office before you leave tonight?" he asked, sheepishly looking down to where he was running small circles with his thumb over the back of her hand, and then up again into her blue orbs.

She gave him a full blown smile that made his stomach flip and stepped on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. "You're so cute when you get all mushy."

"Is that a yes?" he called after her, but Diggle shut the car door behind her before he got an answer.

He had to wait for his answer for nine hours. As it was nearing six, she walked into his office with her duffle bag thrown over her shoulder. She'd already changed out of her work clothes and into dark blue skinny jeans and a formfitting black v-neck shirt.

"Tommy said to keep it casual," she said and walked towards where he was seated at his desk. "You think this is too casual?"

"Nah, this is perfect," he replied and got up from his chair to stand in front of her, staring into her eyes. God, she was beautiful.

"Can you take my duffle bag home with you when you leave later?" she asked, giving him a warm smile.

"What do I get in return?" he retorted, placing his hands on either side of her waist, drawing her closer to him.

"I can think of a few things."

He hummed in anticipation. "Do tell, Mrs. Queen."

She bit her bottom lip. "I believe I still owe you a home-cooked meal. How about," she began and wrapped her arms around his waist, stepping completely into his embrace. "Tomorrow night, you, me, home-made pizza, and no interruptions."

"That sounds fantastic, but..."

"But what?" she questioned with raised eyebrows.

"But I don't know if I can wait that long."

"What do you have in mind, Mr. Queen?"

"That tiramisu is still waiting to be eaten in bed, and you mentioned that your neck hurts. So tonight after you come home..."–He leaned down so that his lips were just skimming over her ear, his voice dropping to a whisper–"...I could give you a massage. I've been told that I have very talented hands that could work out your kinks. And just in case the tiramisu doesn't quite do it for you, I'd be happy to give you that happy ending."

With a sense of pride and accomplishment he felt her shiver against him. "That sounds..."

"I totally just walked into a thing, didn't I?" came Tommy's amused voice from the door. "Hate to break this up, guys, but we gotta get going if we want to make it in time, Lis."

Oliver held her tighter for a moment. "Don't take too long," he whispered in her ear and pressed a kiss to her jaw and then her cheek and stepped away from her before he could decide to take her home with him right then.

"See you later," she said, smiling at him brightly while gathering her things and stepping through the doorway.

Yeah, it would be a long few hours.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

He'd been right, waiting those few hours for her return seemed to stretch on forever. He'd almost bumped his fist into the air in victory when he'd received her text ten minutes ago.

**Leaving now, should be home in 20. Hope your hands are warmed up. See you soon. F.**

He was balancing a bottle of wine, glasses, and a plate with tiramisu back to his... _their_ room when his phone started ringing in his pocket. He cursed and quickened his step, depositing everything on his bedside table while fishing out his phone. Her name flashed across his screen and while trying to fight off a smile he vaguely noted that he'd have to take a picture of her.

"Hey, are you here already?" he asked cheerfully.

But all he could hear was a grunt on the other end of the line. A distinctly _male_ grunt. "Oliver," sounded the hoarse voice of his best friend.

"Tommy? What are you doing with Felicity's phone?" There was a sinking feeling in his stomach. Something was wrong. He could sense it. "What's going on?"

Tommy let out a violent cough. "They came out of nowhere, just ran us off the road. I tried to fight them off, Ollie, I swear, but there were too many. They killed the driver and the bodyguard."

"What happened to Felicity?" he asked, an icy sensation of dread washing over his body.

"I'm so sorry, man. They took her," he let out a ragged breath. "They took Felicity."

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title translation: What is quickly gained is quickly lost.


	7. Ubi amor, ibi dolor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: this chapter contains a brief sequence of attempted sexual assault, and mental/physical torture.

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

Pain. That's the first thing she felt when she started to come to. Pain that spread through her entire body like a wildfire.

Next, she felt the relentless cold that invaded every last cell, making her body convulse with shivers.

She tried opening her eyes, but her body simply refused to cooperate. With every failed attempt, the throbbing pain in her head intensified. Despite fighting against it, she felt herself drift back into oblivion.

The next time she woke up, she finally managed to open her eyes, blinking rapidly. Everything around her was dipped into darkness. She tried bringing up her hand to her face to confirm her suspicion that she wasn't wearing her glasses, but she couldn't move.

Furrowing her brows, she lifted her head. Or rather, _tried_ lifting her head. She couldn't. She felt like she was paralyzed with absolutely no control over her body.

The weird thing was that she could _feel_ her body. She could still feel the pain and the cold. She just couldn't _move_.

Panic started to settle in.

Her surroundings were still plunged into darkness and she had no way of telling where she was or how long she'd been here. Hours? Days?

Was anyone looking for her? Surely, they had to be. Tommy had been right there in the car with her, so he knew that she'd been taken. He'd tried to fight them off, she remembered vaguely, but one of the attackers had hit him a few times and she'd screamed when his unconscious body had sunk back into the leather seats of the limousine.

She'd known that she was done for in that moment. Just before the door had been yanked open they'd heard a few shots being fired off and Felicity feared that their driver and bodyguard had fallen victim to their attackers. Hopefully, they were still alive. And hopefully, Tommy was okay.

He was such a sweet and genuine guy, she couldn't imagine anything bad happening to him. Her friendship with him had come surprisingly easy. Sure, he actually was the immature, no-care-in-the-world playboy billionaire he was made out to be by the numerous tabloids, but in the past few months she'd gotten to know the man that was behind all that impulsive and at times reckless behavior.

She was glad that she'd taken that leap of faith and agreed to that very first of many Tommy Tuesdays. Of course, she'd mocked him relentlessly for the name and the sheer arrogance that came with it, but quickly, their random activities on Tuesday nights had developed into a weekly thing and she couldn't have been happier about it. She'd found an amazing friend who was, besides Thea, the only one she could openly talk to about her fake relationship with Oliver after he'd been let in on the secret.

He was her rock whenever she felt like she was drowning in the endless sea of lies. He always had a cheeky line on the tip of his tongue and could make her laugh no matter how bad her day had been. If all else failed, he was her drinking buddy or her shoulder to cry on. From the moment he'd stepped into her life (or was it the other way around?), Tommy had been there for her. Tonight had been no exception. He'd tried to put himself between her and the assailants, risking his life to keep her from harm. He better be okay or she'd be seriously pissed.

The day had started off so great, waking up in Oliver's arms, enjoying their new-found peace. The rest of the day had been great, too, even though she'd been holed up in her office for most of the time. But then Tommy had taken her to this amazing concert that she'd almost cried over when she hadn't been able to get tickets. And then everything had turned to shit.

She would never admit it out loud, but during the car ride back to the mansion she'd been almost giddy with excitement. While the concert and her time with Tommy had been phenomenal, she was also happy to go back home to Oliver.

Wow, that sounded weird.

If you'd told her a few weeks, hell, a few days ago that she'd be happy to see Oliver, she probably would've laughed loudly. But now, things were different. Things were better. So much better.

Finally things were looking up between them. He'd been so sweet and thoughtful the last few days, it was almost hard to believe that he was the same guy she usually fought like crazy with. Or the same guy that could be so very cold and distant. Maybe they weren't on the same page quite yet, but at least now they were reading the same book. For the first time in forever she was hopeful that things could be okay. That she would maybe even get her happily ever after.

For a while there she'd given up hope —which of course was a bit ridiculous, considering she was only twenty-four — but she'd had some bad experiences with guys that had effectively crushed all of her dreams. She'd walked in on _two_ of her three serious boyfriends while they were getting busy with other women. When it had happened the first time, she'd just thought that it was bound to happen with Matthew. He was a player through and through. She wasn't even sure what she'd liked about him so much. But when she'd caught Cooper with his pants down, she'd been really surprised. They'd been together for almost two years, even talking about getting an apartment together after graduating. Needless to say that she'd found another roommate.

Despite the resolute indifference she'd put up for her friends, she'd been really hurt. She'd started doubting herself. If she'd only been cheated on once, she could've brushed it off, but twice? She'd started to think that something was wrong with her and that it was her fault. That maybe she just wasn't good enough or sexy enough or whatever.

Maybe her personal history was one of the reasons she despised Oliver so much in the beginning. She didn't trust him. He was known to be a womanizer. He'd taken his girlfriend's sister on that yacht with him, for God's sake. And even before that, he'd been seen getting busy with so many other girls that it was clear he wasn't a one-woman-guy, and probably never would be.

She could handle a lot, but dishonesty and unfaithfulness were two things she simply couldn't accept. That's why she'd shielded herself from him at the very beginning of this ridiculous union, not letting herself feel anything but hate for her husband, giving him no chance to get close enough to break her heart.

That tactic had somewhat worked until Oliver had found a way to worm his way into her heart. Introducing himself again to start over might well be the cutest thing she'd ever seen. His hopefulness and playfulness had been so infectious, she couldn't help herself but feel optimistic.

Optimism would be great right about now. Unfortunately, her pessimistic side was winning the fight. She should've taken the shooting on Saturday more seriously. Oliver had been concerned about her safety and she'd just waived it off, determined to stand her ground. If she hadn't been so damn stubborn maybe she'd be home right now, _safe_ , instead of lying paralyzed on the ground somewhere in the darkness.

Suddenly, a door opened with a bang a few feet away from her. Instinctively, she tried to turn her ahead towards the sound, but was quickly reminded that she still couldn't.

"Well, well, well," a male voice snarled, edging closer to her position. "Sleeping beauty is finally awake."

"Then the fun can begin," a second man said.

Before she could retort anything she felt a hand creeping up her leg. Instead of a snarky remark, she let out a startled yelp, willing her body to just _move_. Away from those prying fingers.

"Don't even bother, Barbie," Dirtbag No. 1 said and leaned over her, grasping her chin. He had a black morph mask on under his dark hoodie. "Apparently the dose we gave you was a bit too high, it'll take a few more hours to wear off."

"Take your hands off of me," she whispered.

"What? You want our hands on you?" Dirtbag No. 2 asked. "Sure, that can be arranged." He added a second hand, moving them up her thighs while the other guy grabbed her breasts and squeezed hard.

"Please stop," she whimpered in response, hating how pitiful and helpless she sounded.

"We're just getting started, Barbie."

Dirtbag No. 2 grabbed the waistband of her jeans and dragged her unmoving body towards him, straddling her thighs. Felicity could only stare at him in complete horror as he undid her belt and pants and reached behind her to violently grab her butt, while the other man clamped one hand over her mouth, smothering her scream, and used the other one to push her shirt up.

Tears were quickly forming in her eyes, spilling onto the cold concrete floor underneath her. Fear held her body in a vice grip, her breaths were coming in short, painful puffs, her heart rate went up, and she couldn't suppress the feeling of utter panic.

"Get off of her, you fucking morons," a distorted voice sounded from where she suspected the door. Her assailants froze for a second, before hurriedly standing up beside her. "Get out!" the voice snarled at them and they quickly scurried off.

The man stepped closer so that he was in her limited line of sight. He was dressed in a black coat, secured by a belt that ran across the waist, a dark cloth or hood was slung around his head, his face hidden behind some kind of ski mask that left only his eyes free. He looked intimidating as hell.

"Please excuse my associates' behavior. I promise you they'll be punished for their disrespectful conduct," he said as he crouched down next to her.

She stared at him from the corner of her eyes and couldn't help retorting, " _Their_ disrespectful conduct? It looks like you're the asshole behind all of this."

To her surprise Dirtbag Boss chuckled. "True, but don't worry, you'll be home in the arms of your _loving_ husband in no time."

"Is that what this about? Oliver?" She felt a prick in her arm and the panic returned. "What are you doing?"

He got up. "This has nothing to do with your new family, Mrs. Queen. This is about showing that you never go back on a business deal." His voice grew more distant. "I gave you a sedative. By the time you wake up, the effects of the paralyzing agent will hopefully have worn off enough for us to proceed." The door shut with a loud thud.

Proceed with what? And if Oliver and the Queens' fortune wasn't the target, then what was? By now it was publicly known that SmoakSolutions was struggling, so it wouldn't exactly be smart to target her family's company, right? But he'd been talking about a business deal, so maybe...

Her eyes began to droop, her brain clouded over, just before everything fell into darkness again.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

She felt like she was floating through the air when she finally came to again. With a great effort she forced herself to open her eyes, blinking rapidly against the stark light. Dirtbag No. 1 and 2 were on either side of her, securing her wrists to the armrests of the metal chair she was now seated in. When had that happened?

"Welcome back, Mrs. Queen," sounded Dirtbag Boss' voice as he stepped up from behind the lamp that was directed at her face. "Please know that what I'm about to do has nothing to do with you. This is only necessary because your mother doesn't seem to know how to honor a deal."

Her head whipped up. "My mother?" She scrunched up her eyebrows in confusion, vaguely realizing that she had control over her body again.

"Yes, your mother. Now, while you still can, please smile for the camera," Dirtbag Boss said and stepped up, holding up a syringe, filled with a dark purple substance.

She stared at it with wide eyes. "No, please don't do this. _Please,_ " she begged, fighting against her restraints, but they wouldn't budge. The man injected the contents of the syringe into her arm and stepped back behind the camera.

Her head fell to her chest in defeat, her hair spilling over her shoulders.

"Please state your name, my dear," Dirtbag Boss said.

She shook her head vehemently, keeping her eyes trained on her lap, until she felt cold metal pressed to her temple. She yelped and whipped her head around, only to stare into the barrel of a gun.

"State your name," Dirtbag Boss repeated calmly, with only the slightest trace of annoyance. "And look at the camera, please."

She swallowed hard and slowly turned her head towards the camera. "My name is Felicity Queen," she whispered, tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes again.

"Very well," Dirtbag Boss nodded his head, but stayed behind the camera. His two henchmen left the room. "This message is for Donna Smoak."

He paused for a few seconds, looking intently at her. It almost seemed like he was waiting for something.

"It's meant to remind you that you're supposed to keep your promises. Don't ever think about backing out of the Undertaking again. This is your only warning. Your daughter will pay the price for your disloyalty."

As if on cue, Felicity felt a sharp pain echo through her chest, making her suck in a deep breath. She bit her lip to suppress a pained groan.

"I just injected your daughter with a very pure form of the drug Vertigo. Right now it is attacking the part of your daughter’s brain where the information from pain receptors is collected. Long story short, while your daughter is physically fine, her brain is telling her that her body is in excruciating pain. I will increase the dosage every hour," he explained.

Felicity took deep breaths trying to ignore the rising pain from everywhere in her body, locking her jaw in stubborn defiance.

"Now, even someone as young and healthy as your daughter can only take so much, so you better hurry. You know what to do, don't bother involving the police."

White-hot pain erupted in Felicity's stomach, vaguely reminding her of the searing pain of being shot just a few days ago, only a hundred times worse. She arched her back in the cold metal chair, desperately ripping at her restraints. Only now she realized that her feet were also tied to the chair. She turned and wiggled her wrists with all her strength, but the new pain from where the leather bindings were chafing against her skin just made everything so much worse.

She bit her lip, determined not to make a sound, until the pain became unbearable. A high-pitched scream erupted from her throat, echoing through the empty space of the warehouse. Through her tears she could vaguely see the man in front of her watching her intently.

A new wave of pain flooded her body and she didn't even bother to contain her screams.

This time she was actually thankful when darkness swallowed her again, her head lolling forward onto her chest as she lost consciousness.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ARROW ⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

Felicity's recorded scream echoed through Oliver's bedroom, her pain filling every last cell of his body with agony. He had to fight with all his strength to stay on his feet and not give into his wobbling knees.

Diggle paused the video that was playing on Oliver's big flat-screen TV. His eyes darted to his friend and boss who stood in front of the TV, shoulders slumped, wide eyes staring at his wife on the screen. She was strapped to a chair in what seemed to be a nondescript warehouse, writhing in pain, screaming her lungs out. Just like the ominous voice off-camera had predicted.

"Oliver," he started carefully. "We'll get her back."

"How?" Oliver's voice was nothing more than a broken whisper. Diggle had never seen him like this. Usually, the younger man was a master at hiding his emotions from everyone around him, but not this time. This time, all the pain and desperation were evident in the deep, worried lines on his forehead, his slumped posture, his whole demeanor, really.

"We just started getting along, Dig. I can't... I can't lose her."

"You won't!" Diggle affirmed. "This video makes it clear that as soon as her mother does whatever she's been asked to do, they'll let her go."

Oliver looked up, face grown stony at the mention of his mother-in-law. "Why hasn't she called us to let us know that she was contacted by the kidnappers? Why hasn't she told us that Felicity's alive and... hanging on?"

Diggle sighed. "I don't know, man. I'm just glad that my contact at ARGUS managed to dig this up. And he's working on tracing the origin of the video. That's good, Oliver, that's _hope_."

Oliver ran a hand over his face in frustration. "I know. It's just... I wanna go out there and do something."

"It wouldn't do any good if you ran aimlessly around without a solid lead. Plus, it would look suspicious if you left the house, instead of waiting for a call from the kidnappers," Dig cautioned.

"A call that isn't going to come," he roared. "Felicity is being _tortured_ somewhere while we're sitting here doing _nothing_!"

Despite his outburst, Diggle stayed calm, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Oliver, as hard as it is, you gotta keep your cool about this. Once we get a lead on her location, I'll be the last person to stand in your way. Hell, I'll drive you there and help you put down every last one of those bastards. But until then, you have to be Oliver Queen and not The Hood. You have to go downstairs and be with your family."

Oliver let out a defeated sigh. "Okay, I just... need a minute."

Dig nodded and turned to leave. "John?" Oliver's voice stopped him in his tracks and made him turn around again. "Thank you. I know after Saturday things have been a little tense between us, but... Thank you for being here."

"We'll deal with Deadshot when we get the chance. Now, getting your wife home safely is my sole priority. Whatever happened between us doesn't matter right now," he replied gently and left the room.

Oliver slumped down on the couch, head cradled in his hands. How had this happened? _Why_ had this happened? What had Donna Smoak done to provoke a reaction this extreme?

He rubbed a hand over tired eyes, willing himself to look up at the screen where Felicity's anguished face was still clear to see. He'd endured his fair share of torture during his time on and off the island, his numerous scars a constant reminder of the pain and despair he'd experienced. _This_ , watching his wife in so much pain, was worse than anything he'd ever felt.

Yes, they'd only started being civil with each other a few days ago, but that didn't mean that he didn't care about her before.

He sucked in a shuddering breath. He _really_ cared about her.

And he thought that she also cared about him, or at least, started to care about him. Their morning had been so blissfully domestic, that the thought alone made his heart ache. Waking up next to her must be one of the best things in the world. Apart from falling asleep next to her, that is.

There was just something about this beautiful, stubborn, funny, incredible woman, that made his heart skip a beat. That made him want to be a better man. He wanted to give her everything and anything. If the past two hours since he'd gotten the phone call from Tommy had taught him anything it was that he didn't want to live without her anymore. Yes, they'd fought like cats and dogs over the course of their relationship, had clashed more times than he could count. They'd insulted and made fun of each other, they'd nearly driven each other – and everybody around them – to insanity.

After six months together, after six months of relentless fighting, they had finally found some sort of common ground. Despite all the adversities and all the obstacles they'd put in each other's way, they'd managed to come out stronger than before.

Would all their progress be for nothing now?

He'd witnessed what Vertigo in its purest form could do to people. He'd seen a man choose to kill himself rather than endure the pain the drug caused. While Felicity's captor had said that he'd stop her ordeal once Donna Smoak delivered on whatever promise she'd threatened to break, Oliver was worried about his wife's health. Vertigo was one bitch of a drug, highly addictive and highly destructive. Just the fact that she'd probably been given a second dose by now, made Oliver's stomach revolt.

He took some steadying breaths before he got up from the couch, stepping over to the TV. He stared at the paused video for a few long seconds and finally turned the screen off.

Diggle was right, until they got a solid lead, he had to be Oliver Queen, so he slowly made his way towards the living room.

When he got there, Thea strode up to him with a few long steps and engulfed him in a tight hug. "They will find her, Ollie. They will!" she murmured into his chest and he wasn't quite sure who she was trying to convince, him or herself.

"I know, Speedy," he said through clenched teeth and pressed a quick kiss to the crown of her head.

He took in the rest of the room. There were a few detectives and officers bustling around the electronic equipment that they'd set up to monitor all incoming calls. His mother and Walter sat on one of the couches, deep in conversation, Roy was standing by the windows holding two glasses, one of them no doubt belonged to Thea, and Tommy was huddled together with Laurel and her father.

Oliver couldn't help but feel alone in that moment. Sure, he had his family's support, but all of them had their special someone with them. His mother had Walter, Thea had Roy, Tommy had Laurel. The person that was supposed to be by his side was currently being tortured by a deranged psychopath and there was nothing he could do about it.

Tommy spotted him and immediately came over to him. When he approached, Oliver could see that the left side of his face was significantly swollen and turning a nasty shade of purple.

"Ollie, I'm so sorry," he started, but Oliver quickly cut him off.

"This isn't your fault."

His best friend looked at him helplessly, while Thea scurried off to join her boyfriend again, giving them some time to talk.

He laid a hand on Tommy's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Look, man, I know that you would've done anything to prevent this. No need to give yourself a hard time. I'll get her back."

Tommy nodded slowly and his voice dropped when he spoke, "Do you have any leads?"

Oliver cast his eyes over everyone in the room, making sure nobody was close enough to hear them. "We're onto something, and Dig's contacts are working on it," he said, deciding not to mention the video or its contents to keep from adding to his friend's guilt.

Tommy's face grew even more serious. "I know that I haven't handled the revelation of your... night time activities well in the past. I said some things about," he dropped his voice even lower, so that it was barely audible, "about you killing so many people." He took a deep breath. "I know that this will make me a gigantic hypocrite, but I don't care. You do _whatever_ it takes to get Felicity back, do you hear me? Whatever. It. Takes."

"I will. I'm getting her back," Oliver replied firmly.

"Oliver!" Diggle called and quickly came over to them, putting away his phone. "I need to talk to you. Outside."

They practically stormed out of the room, but other than Tommy nobody even seemed to notice. In the foyer they came to an abrupt stop.

"My contact managed to trace the location of the IP address from where the email was sent. Your gear is in the car. Let's get your girl."

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

Diggle pulled up to an abandoned warehouse close to the docks. On the drive over, Oliver had quickly changed into his leather suit in the backseat, and was ready for action. They stepped out of the car, moving to the trunk that was filled with a choice of weapons. Both men stocked up on their supplies and put comm links in their ears.

"We're going in blind and with no back-up, so this has to be quick and clean. We'll go in at the same time. I'll take the back and you go in through the front," Diggle ordered.

"Let's go," Oliver said and they moved to their positions. He fully trusted Diggle's military experience on this one, even though he wasn't used to working as a team in the field.

They breached the building, methodically checking every room while they moved forward with a quiet, precise efficiency, only interrupted by the occasional "clear".

Oliver opened the next door quietly and stopped dead in his tracks. There, not even 30 feet away from him, Felicity lay on the concrete floor right next to the metal chair she'd been strapped to in the video. He had to force himself to clear the rest of the room first, making sure that no one else was there before he rushed to her side. His heart was beating wildly in hist chest.

He fell to his knees, his bow clattering to the ground next to him as he made quick work of taking his gloves off. His fingers immediately went to her throat, frantically searching for a pulse.

He let out a rushed breath when he felt the weak thrum of her vein under his shaking fingers. "I got her, Dig. She's unconscious, pulse is weak. Get the car ready."

"Copy that. I'm on my way."

Oliver moved his hands over her body, checking for any injuries. He had just reached her waist when she came to with a start, sucking in a sharp breath, eyes darting around wildly.

"You're okay, Felicity. You're safe," Oliver tried to sooth her.

His voice seemed to get through her dazed confusion, her wide eyes staring up at him, before she violently pushed her body away from his, scrambling over the floor.

"No, don't touch me. Please don't touch me," she said breathlessly, backing away further. "Please, don't hurt me."

Oliver slowly brought up his hands in front of him, showing her that he wouldn't touch her. "I'd never hurt you, Felicity."

To say that he was surprised by her reaction would be an understatement. Just a few days ago, she'd offered her help to The Hood if he ever needed it. She had _kissed_ him. And now she was scared of him? What the hell had those bastards done to her?

"I'll take you home, okay?" he asked softly, slowly stretching out his right hand.

She shook her head vigorously. "No, no, I can't... Please, stay away," she whimpered, big drops of tears falling silently from her eyes. "Please, please, please," she chanted over and over again, drawing her knees up to her chest and hugging them tightly with her arms, rocking back and forth.

It broke Oliver's heart to see her like this, to see her so disheartened, so lost and helpless. All he wanted to do was help her. Take away her pain and her fear and keep her safe from the rest of the world. What he should've done in the first place. A wave of guilt crashed into his chest and left him breathless. Why oh why had he not insisted on her bringing more security? Why had he not tried harder to convince her to stay at home? To stay with him.

A sound from the door made him still his breathing, listening intently for any more sounds. There were at least two sets of footsteps coming towards them. In a swift motion he picked up his bow, whirled around and nocked an arrow just as two men stepped into the room. Before they could even so much as flinch, the guy on the right was already stumbling backwards, an arrow sticking out of his chest.

Oliver barely registered the shocked shriek coming from Felicity, as he moved closer to the guy that was still standing, his roaring voice echoing from the walls. "Don't move."

Instead of listening to him, the man's hand moved to his back, reaching for his gun. He didn't even touch it before two arrows penetrated his chest in quick succession. Behind him, Felicity let out another agonized whimper.

He quickly turned around and stepped closer. She was still repeating the word 'please' again and again, empty eyes staring into nothingness. Her breathing was becoming more erratic and she seemed to struggle with every intake of breath.

He quickly slung his bow over his shoulder and crouched down next to her again. By now her body was shaking uncontrollably.

"Dig, I think she's having a panic attack. Are you ready to go?" he said as he touched his comm link.

"Ready to go," Diggle replied curtly.

"Felicity, can you get up? We need to get you out of here," Oliver said softly.

"No, please don't touch me. Please," she whispered brokenly.

"Please, Felicity," he urged. "Please trust me."

"No, I... I can't."

He took a deep breath. Deep down he knew that there was only one way he could make her come with him willingly. To make her trust him enough. He slowly moved his hands to his head and pulled off his hood while pushing off his mask. He looked up to meet her gaze. Her eyes widened in realization and she spluttered out a gasp.

"It's me, Felicity." He laid a hand on hers, relieved that even though she flinched at the contact she didn't back away again. He ran a thumb over the back of her hand in soothing circles. Her body was shaking even more violently.

"No... how... what... I don't understand," she breathed out. "You can't be... no."

"You have to calm down. I know that this a lot to take in, but you have to calm down. I'm here. I got you. You're safe."

She looked at him with wide eyes, an errant tear trailing down her cheek. Hesitantly, he moved his free hand up, giving her enough time to protest before he gently cupped her face, letting his thumb swipe over her cheek, catching her tear. She let out an almost inaudible gasp, but leaned into his touch ever so lightly.

"I got you, baby, I got you," Oliver whispered softly.

"I wanna go home."

He nodded curtly. "Then let's go home. Can you get up or do you want me to carry you?"

She just looked at him with big, helpless eyes. "I don't... I don't know."

Seeing her so unsure broke his heart all over again. Usually, she was so strong and fierce, always a smile playing on her lips, always so quick to put him in his place. _This_ wasn't the Felicity he knew. This was merely a shell of a woman, broken down into pieces. He sensed that this was about more than the effects of Vertigo. About more than being kidnapped and tortured. He shuddered at the mere thought of what else these men could've done to her.

"Calm down, baby. Take deep breaths. In and out," he told her and breathed with her a few times, until her erratic breathed slowed down.

When he was sure that the worst was over, he slung one arm around her waist and the other under her knees, closing his eyes briefly when she flinched at his touch. For a second, her body was completely rigid in his arms, before she finally relaxed and buried her face in his jacket, crying quietly.

"We're coming out, Dig."

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

It was nearing 6am when Oliver finally made his way to their room. The last few hours had been a flurry of activity. Driving back to the mansion while changing and concocting a story about how The Hood had contacted him and told him where he could find Felicity. Getting through the commotion at the house, once he'd carried her inside. Then he'd been questioned by the police, Felicity had been ushered to another room where their family doctor had examined her and had taken a blood sample. Oliver had almost ripped the officers' throats out when he hadn't been allowed into the room with her as she'd been questioned by two detectives. After her interview, she'd quickly fled to their room, leaving him to explain everything that had happened to his family.

He opened the door slowly, not wanting to startle Felicity who he'd expected to be in bed by now. Instead, she was scurrying through the brightly lit room, carrying a stack of her clothes toward the bed. Oliver stopped dead in his track when he saw the open suitcase on top of the covers.

"What are you doing?" he asked into the room.

She whirled around, bringing one hand to rest on her chest as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he quickly said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

She nodded, but didn't say anything.

"Why are you packing your things?" he asked and moved closer. From his new position he took in her make-up free face that was framed by her wet locks. He could see new tear tracks on her cheek and he had to force himself to keep from rushing over to her.

She waved her hands in a noncommittal gesture. "I just... I can't." She took a deep, steadying breath. "I can't do this. I can't be here... with you," she finally whispered, new tears shining in her eyes.

He took a few more steps, careful not to crowd her. "Where are you going?" His voice was hoarse, laden with emotions.

"My apartment." Seeing his eyebrows furrow in confusion, she continued, "I kept my apartment in case I ever needed a break from... everything." She didn't say it but he just knew that she was about to say 'in case I ever needed a break from _you_ '. The unspoken word hit him like a sucker punch.

"Please don't go, Felicity. I... I know that this is a lot to process, but please don't run. Stay and let me help you get through this," he pleaded.

She took a step back and shook her head vigorously. "No, I need time to... I need to be alone for a while."

"Then just go to a different room in the house. Kick Grammy out of yours, for all I care. I don't care how it'll look to her. Just don't leave," he urged desperately. "I'll stay out of your way until you're ready to talk. I just need to know you're _safe_."

She looked at him with big, sad eyes. "I can't be around you right now, Oliver. You killed two men tonight... because of me. I can't... How do I live with that?"

"Felicity." Her name was just a soft whisper, but she didn't stop.

"Yes, admittedly, they were horrible men who did horrible things, but you killed them, Oliver. You took their lives. And that was only tonight. How many people have you killed since you started your... whatever the hell you think you're doing." She didn't wait for an answer that she probably knew wasn't coming. "How can you go out at night and kill people and then come home and act like nothing happened?"

She took another deep breath and turned around to close the suitcase. "I don't know if I'm more pissed that you lied to me about this or that I was naïve and gullible enough to fall in love with a guy who puts arrows in people for kicks."

He inhaled sharply. "That is not what this is about. If you just let me explain-"

She cut him off. "I don't wanna hear it, Oliver. I don't wanna hear any more of your lies."

She hauled her suitcase off the bed and walked past him towards the door.

"So this is it? You just decide that it's over? That you're done? You just give up on us?" he roared and immediately regretted his outburst when he saw her flinch violently.

She turned around and he felt a stabbing pain in his chest as he saw tears rolling down her cheeks. " _You_ already gave up on us when you didn't trust me with your secret." She smiled at him sadly. "I don't think we ever had a chance."

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title translation: Where there is love, there is pain.


	8. Post tenebras spero lucem

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

She was just stepping out of her bedroom, dressed in sweatpants and a baggy MIT hoodie, when she heard the knock on her door. Great, who would it be now?

In the two weeks since her kidnapping, several people had visited her at her town house. The first one had been Tommy, followed by her best friend Jen, Thea and then even Moira. All of them had gotten the same answer. "I'm fine, I just need some time to process."

Thea had been a little more persistent than the others, though. Felicity didn't know why, but the youngest Queen had directly jumped to the right conclusion. "What did my idiot brother do this time?" she'd asked exasperatedly. Felicity had given her a noncommittal shrug and repeated her previous answer, even though it was abundantly clear that her sister-in-law thought there was more to it. She'd eventually dropped the topic and made Felicity promise to call her if she wanted to do some retail therapy.

Oliver hadn't stopped by. He had called and texted her, though. After two days and countless unanswered texts and declined phone calls, she'd finally texted him back: 'I need time'. He hadn't called her again, just sent her a quick text that said 'okay, whatever you need'.

That had made her feel even shittier than before. She knew that he was trying to make amends, but she just couldn't face him. Not yet.

She looked through the peep hole and took a surprised step back before opening the door with a frown.

"Diggle?"

The man in question chuckled. "I guess I'm not who you expected," he quipped.

"No, you really aren't." A beat passed. "Then again, Moira stopped by a few days ago, so I'm not sure how anything else could be a surprise anymore." She opened the door. "Come in."

Diggle followed her to the couch where he sat down next to her. "You have a nice place here," he said after taking a quick look around, only briefly halting on her Robin Hood poster above her TV.

"Thanks," she replied with a small smile, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "Not to be rude, but what are you doing here, Dig?"

He gave her a fond smile. "I wanted to see if you wanted to talk."

She frowned. "Did Oliver send you?" she asked, well aware that he and Diggle had developed a friendship or at least some kind of manly bond thing that went beyond a strict boss-employee relationship.

"No." He shook his head. "He doesn't know I'm here. I'd probably have an arrow sticking out of me if he did know."

Felicity's jaw dropped inadvertently. "Wh.. What?" she stuttered. "You know? How do you know? Why do you know?"

Diggle chuckled softly. "Yes, I know and I actually help him. I'll tell you about the how some other time."

"I can't believe this," she muttered slowly, looking at him with wide eyes and running a hand through her messy curls. Finally, she got up from her seat on the couch and started pacing the floor. "I just need a minute."

Diggle nodded and remained still. Every so often, Felicity shot wary glances his way, debating what to do next.

She wasn't very close to the man. In the past few months, she'd met him a few times during her morning runs on the extensive Queen estate. He'd fallen in step with her and had made amicable small talk. He'd even offered to teach her some self-defense moves if she wanted. Maybe she should've taken him up on that, she thought wryly. But that was all there was to their relationship: small talk here and there when he was driving her somewhere or the occasional run-in in the morning.

He was a very private man and even after talking to him a few times, she didn't really know much about him. He'd served in the army before joining the private security sector after his last tour, and he'd been working for the Queens since last October. Was that how long he'd known about Oliver being The Hood? What was his role in all this?

She stopped pacing and sized him up for a moment, tilting her head to the side a little, before finally speaking, "Why? Why are you helping him? I know that I don't really know you and please don't take this the wrong way, but you seem like someone who'd be bothered by a guy killing dozens of people. And yet, you're helping him?"

Diggle nodded thoughtfully. "I was bothered. Still am sometimes. But that's one of the reasons I decided to join him: to help him. This whole thing, him going after certain people, is fueled by... emotions. It's something that he will tell you about once you let him," he assured her, and Felicity nodded slowly. "In a way, he's fighting a war, and from my own experience I know that war changes people. I've had to do things in the line of duty that I'm not proud of, that I wish I could take back or do differently." He paused for a moment.

"Doing this with Oliver... we're doing something good. Even if the city doesn't see it that way yet, we're making a difference. Oliver is making a difference." He considered his next words for a moment. "When you're fighting a war, you sometimes lose track of what you're doing. Killing people becomes a necessity, a means to an end. Sometimes you forget about the consequences when you pull that trigger because in that moment it's kill or be killed."

Felicity looked at him intently, waiting for him to continue. "I think Oliver was in exactly that place when I started working with him. He saw what he wanted and did whatever needed to be done to reach his objective, even if that meant killing people. I joined his one-man army because he is right: the city needs saving. And _he_ needs someone to remind him of who he is, so that he doesn't lose himself in what he becomes when he puts that hood on. There are always casualties when you're fighting a war." He shook his head sadly. "By joining him, I wanted to make sure that he wasn't doing more killing than necessary."

"Considering what I've seen, I'm not sure you're doing a good job," she said carefully, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He killed those men."

He regarded her for a moment, nodding in silent acknowledgment. "He did. And I  would've done the same thing." Despite her gasp, he continued, "He's different when it comes to you. I've never seen him as restless or helpless as when we were waiting for the kidnapper to contact us. And then when he finally found you, you weren't letting him near you. When the guys came in, he saw a threat and most likely the cause of your closed off and frightened behavior, and he just reacted."

He let out a sigh and ran a hand over his face. "You had a panic attack, right after. I think that scared him more than anything. So again, he reacted and revealed his identity to you, hoping that you'd be calmer if you saw a familiar face."

"So you're telling me that if I hadn't had the panic attack he wouldn't have told me?" she asked, anger lacing her voice.

"No, Felicity, I'm telling you that he would've chosen a better time to tell you," Diggle retorted without missing a beat.

She took a step back, wrapping her arms around her rib cage. "You know that for sure?"

"With Oliver nothing is really sure, but I have gotten to know him pretty well since his return from the island and believe me when I say that he was planning on telling you soon," he said earnestly.

She was silent for a moment, considering his words. For whatever reason, she believed him. She believed that Oliver was going to tell her his secret, but did that change anything?

"Let's assume I believe you," she started. "That still doesn't change the fact that he's a killer."

He pursed his lips in disagreement. "Did you have a problem with that when you offered The Hood your help before you knew it was Oliver?"

"Yes!"

Diggle raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I did," she declared firmly. "I told him that I didn't want to be an accomplice in murdering anyone."

"And yet, you helped him and offered to help him in the future. Why?"

She folded her arms over her chest, thinking about his question. It was a very valid question, she had to admit.

"He said that the people he killed deserved it and that he did what was necessary to save the city," she muttered.

"Uh-huh," Diggle mused. "And those reasons don't count anymore now that you know who he is?"

Felicity opened and closed her mouth a few times before her voice finally started working again. "No... Yes... I don't know." She let out a frustrated sigh and ran both of her hands through her hair. "He's my husband," she finally whispered.

"The guy I sleep with is the vigilante." Her eyes slammed shut, a blush creeping up her cheeks, while she brought up a hand to cover her face. "That is not... I don't mean 'sleep with' like get down to sexy times 'sleep with', but you know, we're sharing a bed, even if that was only for a couple of nights. Oh God, please tell me you signed an NDA?" she asked, stopping herself mid-ramble, peeking through the fingers covering her eyes.

"Don't worry, I keep secrets for a living," Diggle assured her.

"Clearly," she muttered under her breath and plopped down onto the couch. "What I mean is that the man I'm married to puts on a green leather suit and runs around the city, killing people with a bow and arrow at night. And yes, you know, maybe it's hypocritical to say this, but while I wasn't too impressed with some random guy doing those things, I'm even less thrilled to find out that it's been Oliver all this time."

She let out another frustrated sigh. "So I'm sorry if anyone doesn't like it, but I just need some time to come to terms with the knowledge that I completely misjudged and misread the man that I..." she stopped herself again. "The man that I started to have feelings for," she finished quietly.

Diggle nodded solemnly. "Fair enough. But if you'll accept my two cents on the matter: you two should talk, because the current situation has Oliver twisted up in knots, and it's killing him to stay away and giving you space when all he wants to do is explain everything to you." He stood up from the couch. "It's time for you to come home, Mrs. Queen."

Felicity followed him to the door. "For what it's worth, even if his methods are questionable, Oliver is doing real good for this city," he said just before he pulled the door shut behind him.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

It took her two more days to finally go back to the Queen Mansion. She'd taken some time to wrap her head around everything that Diggle had told her when he'd come over. After two more nights in the safety of her own four walls, she felt ready to face Oliver.

By some miracle she managed to dodge all of the Queens when she walked through the hallways that Friday night. The only person she crossed paths with was Raisa who just gave her a warm smile and said, "Welcome home".

Only when Felicity laid her hand on the door handle, about to open the door, she realized that she was standing in front of Oliver's room. How in the world had it become the most normal thing for her to go to his room after only living with him for four days? Her hand slipped off the handle and she turned around slowly, facing the dark wood of her own door.

During her visit, Thea had told her that despite Grammy's idea to postpone her cruise until she knew everything was okay with Felicity, they'd somehow managed to convince her to go and keep her updated. So Felicity knew, that her room was indeed _her room_ again. Why did it feel so... wrong to go back to it?

With a hollow feeling in her stomach she opened her door, stepping into the room that was supposed to be her home. She stopped in her tracks after only a couple of steps, taking in the room. It felt... off somehow. As her eyes swept over the furniture, she realized why she felt so... detached from it. All of her things were still gone. All of her little knick knacks, the few photo frames she kept, computer parts that usually cluttered every available surface. None of it was there, which could only mean that it was still in Oliver's room.

She was walking over to the freshly made bed when her eyes caught on something on the nightstand. With a slightly tilted head she closed the distance. There, on the nightstand, lay an envelope with her name ornately written on it. Who had put it there? How long had it been there? Did Oliver...?

With shaking fingers she lifted the envelope, just letting it rest in her hands for a while before she finally turned it over and opened it. She instantly knew that this wasn't Oliver's scratchy handwriting she'd seen when he was taking notes during their meeting with the lawyers. No, this was written in an elaborate, downright elegant penmanship.

 

_My Dear Felicity,_

_by the time you read this, I will have left for my cruise, and since I'm not sure if I'll be able to call you anytime soon, I decided to write you this letter._

_I hope you could use the time apart from us to process everything that has happened to you. And I really hope that you are doing well!_

_I know that not only this ordeal you went through, but also the last few months, must have been difficult for you. Adjusting to married life, a new home, a new family, dealing with the public scrutiny. This lifestyle we're living certainly comes with a price._

_Watching you all this time has made one thing abundantly clear: Moira made the right choice when she picked you to be Oliver's wife. Yes, I said choice. I may have been a blonde once upon a time, but not_ _that_ _blonde. I knew that you didn't love my grandson, the first time I saw you two together. There was just something missing between you that even your acting skills couldn't cover up._

_I'm not sure why Moira chose to continue this particular Queen family tradition, but knowing her, she probably had a very practical reason. But I have to admit that I agree with her choice. You may not see it yet, but you are a perfect fit for Oliver. That being said, I know that living with a man you don't love is difficult. Sometimes it will seem almost unbearable._

_I know this because once upon a time I was in your position. My family was wealthy, the Queens were wealthy, so it was almost natural for the offspring of the families to be married, forming a strong alliance. Alas, I didn't love my husband, but we learned to live together, even if it never turned into the happy love story you see on TV sometimes. After Robert was born, we both fell in love with other people. Discreetly, of course. This was our last resort. We had tried being together, but we simply didn't work. There were never feelings, there was never a spark between us. After a few years, we became friends, best friends even, but I think we were never destined to be together._

_With Moira and Robert it was different. When we introduced them to each other, there was a spark. I don't know if it was love at first sight or something akin to it, but there was definitely passion. Passion that resulted in her being pregnant soon after. Upon hearing the good news there was never a question if they'd marry each other or not. From what I can tell, they were happy for a while, but it didn't last long. Both of them lied, both of them cheated. They kept up the façade for the public and for Oliver and Thea, of course, but I could see how unhappy they both were when they thought no one was looking._

_I'm telling you this because I want you to hang in there. Give your marriage some time, give your relationship with Oliver some time to develop. Get to know each other. This family's history has shown that indifference can turn into friendship, passion and love can turn into bitterness.  For all we know, hatred could turn into the greatest of love stories._

_Both of you don't see it yet, but once you look past all that animosity you two harbor for each other, there's something more. You complement each other in ways that completely amaze me. I hope that some day soon you see what I (and everybody around you) sees when they look at you._

_I can feel that there is more to you leaving than the kidnapping. Now, I don't know what Oliver did or didn't do that made you leave, but you need to give him the chance to explain himself. Don't you think you owe him at least that? A chance?!_

_I will let you in on another Queen family secret. No matter who the public sees at the helm of Queen Consolidated, this family is led by its women. We're the ones keeping this family together, making sure that the legacy and traditions of the Queen family live on and prosper. We're the ones that will stop at nothing when it comes to protecting our loved ones. We're the strong ones._

_And you, Felicity, are no exception to that rule!_

_Well, I think you've read enough of my two cents on this topic, so I'll start packing for the cruise now. And you, young lady, should go find your husband and talk to him and make little great-grand babies that I can spoil._

_If you need anything, call me (I'm sure you can find a satellite to hack into). Stay strong, Felicity!_

_Lots of love,_

_Grammy_

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

Felicity let out a breath that she didn't know she was holding when she reached the end of the letter. She stared at the words that were swimming on the paper in her hands, only now realizing that she had tears in her eyes.

"Felicity?" the startled voice of her husband made its way through to brain. "I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd be here, but the door was open..." he trailed off.

Her head moved up and she met his gaze. He had a garment bag slung over his left arm and held a suitcase with his right hand, looking at her with big eyes that grew worried when he took in the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, but didn't move from where he was standing in her doorway.

She swallowed and drew her eyebrows together into a frown. "Are you leaving?" she asked and ignored his question completely.

He let out a sigh and shook his head slightly, shooting a quick glance to the suitcase in his hand. "No, I actually just came back from a week-long business trip to Metropolis that Walter sent me on." He paused for a moment, pressing his lips together. "What about you? Are you... staying? Or are you picking up the rest of your things?"

There was a sadness in his tone that she'd never heard before. She hated it, she decided quickly. And she hated the fact that she was the reason for it even more.

"No," she shook her head and her breath stilled when he saw disappointment wash over his face, before she realized what she'd said. "I mean no, I'm not here to pick up my stuff. I'm..." she swallowed hard. "I'm home," she whispered.

He stared at her for a full ten seconds (she counted!), his mouth slightly agape, a small furrow forming on his forehead. And then he suddenly just dropped his things to the floor and closed the distance between them in a few long strides.

Before she knew what was happening he'd already pulled her up from the bed, engulfing her in an almost bone crushing hug. After the initial shock had passed, she wrapped her arms around his back, moving swiftly under his suit jacket, gripping him just as tightly as he was holding her, while she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

She inhaled deeply, taking in his unique scent, feeling their chests rise and fall in unison, and his heart beating just as rapidly as hers. _Now_ she was home.

She didn't know how long they stood there, just wrapped up in each other. She didn't care, as long as it didn't stop. At some point Oliver's fingers had begun tracing patterns over her lower back. Only after a minute or so she realized it was the same thing over and over again.

"What are you writing?" she mumbled into his neck. With a small smile she realized that he shuddered a little when her lips moved against his skin.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

She concentrated on his fingers again, but couldn't make out the letters. "In what language?"

"Russian," he said, and it was her turn to shudder. What was it with this man and Russian?

"I'm sorry, too," she murmured and tilted her head, so she could see his face. His eyes were closed, as she swept hers over his neatly trimmed beard, resisting the sudden urge to run her fingers over it. "We need to talk."

His eyes flew open and he leaned back slightly so he could lock his eyes with hers without loosening his grip on her. "I know," he agreed, but made no move to let go.

She rested her head against him again, just enjoying his warmth and the feeling of his muscles playing under her fingertips. For the first time in two and a half weeks she felt truly safe.

After what felt like an eternity, she reluctantly loosened her almost desperate grip on him. He did the same and she took a tentative step back, instantly missing the comfort of his arms. But she knew they had to talk and that would only happen if they sat down and stopped touching each other. His warmth and muscle-y goodness were just too damn distracting.

"I know you wanna talk," he started. "I wanna talk, too. But I've been stuck in meetings and then on the plane the whole day, and I'd just really like to take a quick shower and eat something," he let out in a rush, his tone apologetic.

She gave him small smile, nodding her head. "I haven't had dinner either, so how about I order a pizza and you hop into the shower?"

"Sounds like a plan!"

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

Forty-five minutes later, Felicity carried the pizza box her favorite pizzeria had just delivered, through the empty hallways of the mansion and after some debating knocked on Oliver's door. It wouldn't make this any more comfortable to do this in her basically empty room.

The door swung open and she was greeted by a sheepishly smiling Oliver. Just like her, he'd changed into dark gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips. She forced down the wave of lust that swept over her at the sight of the very snug black t-shirt accentuating his muscular chest. His hair was still a little wet and in a wild disarray that definitely didn't make her want to run her fingers through it. _At all!_

She swallowed hard and shook herself out of her stupor. "Dinner's ready," she managed to say in a more or less steady voice, as she rattled the box in her hands invitingly.

He stepped back and motioned for her to come in, leading her towards the sitting area in front of the TV. It should've been awkward. Eating and talking before the Big Talk, that may well change the direction of their relationship. And yet, it wasn't awkward. Conversation came easy when they started eating, catching each other up on the past two weeks. Felicity told him about a particularly nasty IT problem she'd had to deal with and he told her about his week of talking to LexCorp in Metropolis. It was easy and yet both of them knew what was coming up next.

They'd discarded the empty pizza box and Oliver poured each of them a glass of wine. "So..." he started carefully as they both leaned back against the back of the couch, facing each other, but with some space between them.

Felicity folded her legs under her, playing with the stem of her glass. "So..." she echoed, before a few seconds of silence engulfed them.

"I'm sorry," they blurted out at the same time and just stared at each other in shock.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Felicity," he quickly said, his voice low and pained. "I'm the one that fucked up. Big time"

She placed her glass on the coffee table and stretched out a hand, shooting him an encouraging smile, waiting patiently as he scrunched up his forehead until he finally reached out his own hand to place it in her opened palm. She ran her thumb over the soft skin of the back of his hand before intertwining their fingers.

"I shouldn't have run," she said with a sad smile. "No matter how... unconventional our relationship is, that's not how you solve problems. That's how you create even more."

He opened his mouth to respond, but she quickly squeezed his fingers to stop him. "What I said... I didn't... I was a bitch and I didn't think straight."

"No, you were right about the things you said," he sighed. "Doesn't change the fact that hearing them and seeing you walk away hurt like hell."

"Oliver," she breathed out.

"I deserved it," he said quickly, self-loathing lacing his voice.

"Hey," she whispered and tugged on his fingers, prompting him to look up at her. "You saved me that night, I don't know what they... what would've happened to me if you hadn't been there. And I never even thanked you for it."

"You were in shock and-"

"Oliver," she cut him off. "Thank you." She looked straight at him, trying to convey all her emotions in just one gaze.

He swallowed hard and nodded. "I was worried sick that night after Tommy called me. And then I saw the video, hearing your screams..." he trailed off and she squeezed his fingers again, trying to give him some strength. "Until Diggle's contact found the IP address for the laptop, I couldn't do anything but wait. I've never felt so helpless in my life."

"I know how that feels," she whispered sadly. Seeing his questioning gaze, she continued, "When I woke up the first time, I had been given a drug that was apparently some kind of paralyzing agent. I felt everything, the cold, the pain, but I couldn't move a muscle. I don't think I've ever been as terrified in my life as when the two guys walked in."

"Did they..." he started, unable to speak the words. She looked at him and saw his tightly clenched jaw and the tortured pain in his eyes.

"No," she said, her voice shakier than she would've liked. "They... touched me and I think they would've... gone further, but their boss interrupted them and ordered them to stop."

She saw a wave of relief wash over his features, but the tortured look didn't fully dissipate. She scooted closer and brought the hand that wasn't tangled with his up to his face, running her fingers through his light scruff. She couldn't help but smile softly when he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.

His free hand came up to cover hers, holding it in place as he turned his head and pressed his lips against the soft skin of her palm. "I almost lost you," he whispered, his lips brushing her skin as he spoke, sending bolts of lightning through her body.

"We just agreed to give us a chance, to try and be together, and just like that you were ripped from my grasp. And there was nothing I could do about it because I wasn't even there to protect you," he said bitterly.

"Oliver, don't do this. Don't blame yourself for something that had nothing to do with you."

His eyes flew open. "You're my _wife_."

"True," she amended with a smile tugging at the corner of her lips at the way those few words managed to make her insides go all gooey. A nice change of pace from when the same words filled her with nothing but dread and bitterness just recently. "But whoever was behind this made it clear that this had nothing to do with you or your family. He was trying to use me as leverage to get my mother to do something. This wasn't your fault."

He nodded slowly, but didn't seem convinced. For a while they just sat in silence, her fingers languidly moving over his cheek, while his fingertips ran restlessly over the pulse point on her wrist.

"Tell me about The Hood," she whispered after a few minutes.

"What do you wanna know?"

"Anything. _Everything,"_ she said quietly, searching his gaze. "Why do you do it?"

He took a deep breath. "When the Gambit sank, I wasn't the only one who survived. My dad and the first mate managed to launch a life raft, they fished me out of the water." He stopped and turned his head, eyes glazing over. "We drifted around for days with no rescue in sight, our food supplies were starting to run low and it was clear that not all of us would survive, so my father made a choice. "

Felicity couldn't help but gasp in shock.

Oliver closed his eyes and continued, "He told me that he wasn't the man I thought he was, that he had failed the city, and that I had to survive so I could right his wrongs. He pulled out a gun, shot the first mate and then he killed himself," he whispered, and her heart broke for him.

"Oh, Oliver," she cried out and launched herself at him, her arms flying around his neck, dragging her body into his lap.

He immediately slung his hands around her waist, keeping her in place, burying his face in her neck. She felt his breath coming out in short, quick puffs against her skin. Her fingers found their way into the short strands of his hair, her fingernails scratching softly over his scalp.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Oliver," she said softly.

He took in a shuddering breath before lifting his head, searching her eyes. "He gave his life, so I could live, so I could repair what he and others had broken." His thumbs ran circles over the skin of her hip where her t-shirt had ridden up. "When I buried him on the island, I found a little notebook that he carried on his person. There were names in it. So many names of Starling City's elite."

"That's who you're going after." It was more a statement than a question even though there was uncertainty in her voice as the pieces slowly started falling into place.

He nodded solemnly. Suddenly, she had a sinking feeling in her stomach. "My mother's name is in there."

"Yes," he breathed out, cupping her face gently.

She adjusted her position in his lap so that her knees were on either side of his hips, effectively straddling him, completely ignoring how incredibly intimate the new position was.

"Why?" she wondered out loud. "I mean, what have all those people done to end up in that notebook?"

He shook his head slightly. "I don't know. I haven't really found anything that connects them. They all have skeletons in their closets, from embezzling money to extortion, murder even. You name any crime and someone from the list is guilty of committing it."

"The Undertaking," she blurted out, remembering the curious words from her kidnapper.

"What?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"That's what the man who took me said. He talked about my mother trying to back out of something called The Undertaking."

"What the hell is The Undertaking?" he asked absentmindedly, probably not even realizing that he had said the words out loud.

"I don't know," she answered anyway. "But I want to help you find out."

His eyes widened. "What?"

She took a deep breath, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "I want to help you," she said with conviction. "Now I know why you're doing this. You're trying to save this city and I don't want you to carry the burden your father put on your shoulders alone. I want to help you, but only under one condition."

"And what's that?"

"The body count. I can't... That's something I can't deal with," she admitted.

Oliver nodded slowly. "I'm working on different kinds of arrows." Seeing her eyebrow rise in question, he elaborated, "Stun arrows, tranq arrows, something like that. Something that lets me incapacitate people instead of going for a kill shot."

Felicity nodded in relief and sighed. "Does it bother you?" she asked, a little too bluntly.

"Of course, Felicity. I'm not a monster," he said, unable to hide the hurt in his tone.

Her hands flew to his face, cupping his cheeks gently. "No, no, no. That's not what I meant. God, I suck at this," she exclaimed exasperatedly, slamming her eyes shut for a second. "Diggle came by to talk to me, to explain some things." She ignored his sharp intake of breath and continued, "He said that when you're fighting a war you start seeing killing as a means to an end, that you stop seeing the act of killing someone for what it is: taking a life."

"Felicity," he breathed out. "Every single life that I have ended... I carry that burden with me every day. I told you before, I don't do this for fun. I do what is necessary."

"And I'm asking you to find a different way," she replied defiantly.

She could see how his jaw clenched, ready to get into a massive argument. And then his face suddenly relaxed, the fight leaving him. "Okay," he whispered, evidently choosing to concede this battle. "Just promise me you won't leave again."

She tilted her head to the side slightly, her eyes sweeping over his worried face. With a smile, she leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. "I promise," she mumbled against his lips.

For a few minutes they just stayed like that, Felicity straddling his lap, cupping his face with her hands, while his fingers crept under her shirt on her waist, tracing lazy patterns over her soft skin. Their lips were barely an inch apart, breaths mingling.

"I missed you, Mrs. Queen," he murmured.

She huffed out a laughter. "I can feel that, Mr. Queen," she said, biting her bottom lip, and rolled her hips against his, eliciting a groan from Oliver.

"Don't start something you won't finish," he growled.

Felicity just smiled cheekily and scooted a little away from his growing erection which prompted him to let out another groan. Frustrated this time.

"I think I'll stick to tiramisu-induced happy endings for now," she replied cheekily and made a move to get off his lap entirely.

Before she could even lift her leg, she found herself flying through the air. She let out a startled shriek when her back landed on the couch, Oliver hovering over her. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, forcing him closer.

She blinked a couple of times. "That was way hotter than it should be," she breathed out.

He just shot a her a cocky smirk and closed the distance between their lips. She couldn't hold back the moan that escaped her lips at the sensation of his mouth moving against hers all while he ground their hips together, hitting just the right spot through both of their sweatpants.

"Oliver," she moaned loudly, when he found a particularly sensitive spot on her neck, his fingers creeping up her back towards the clasp of her bra. Somehow, with everything else going on he never stopped the lazy roll of his hips.

He started peppering countless kisses from her neck over her collarbone to the V cut out of her shirt. He was driving her insane, making it incredibly hard to think straight when his lips were doing _that_.

"Oliver," she tried again, using her slightly shaky hands to pull on his head. "We need to stop."

His lips froze where they were latched onto the skin of her right breast. "What?" he breathed out against the damp skin, making goosebumps appear all over her body.

She tugged harder on his head and he let himself be dragged back up her body so that their faces were only an inch apart.

"I'm glad we finally talked and I want this," she said and let her hands drop to his waist. "God knows I want this, but not now. I don't want to jump into this. I think we're both too emotional and raw right now to take this step. What's a few more days after all this time, right?"

Oliver groaned, but nodded his head. "You're right," he sighed. "But I have some conditions."

"What kind of conditions?" she asked with a playful frown, humoring him.

"You're sleeping in here. In our bed."

"Done."

"You'll be staying in here. No more separate rooms."

"Done."

"I get cuddle privileges."

She raised an amused eyebrow. "Done."

"I get to kiss you whenever I want," he said and dropped a quick kiss to her lips to emphasize his point.

"Done."

"You sleep naked."

"Oliver," she said sternly and pinched his side.

He huffed out a laugh and leaned down for another kiss. "Sorry, just checking if you're actually listening."

She scraped her fingernails over his back. "I was listening. Is that all?"

"One more," he murmured. "I want to take you away from here for a while. Just for a few days, just the two of us."

"Hmm," she hummed in agreement. Some time away, just the two of them, sounded like the perfect idea to really start off their relationship. "What do you have in mind?"

He grinned down at her. "Next week is the 4th of July. How about we spent a long weekend at our house in the Hamptons?"

"That sounds perfect." She reached her head up to meet him for a long kiss.

"Now," she said when they parted. "When are you gonna make use of your cuddling privileges?"

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title translation: After darkness, I hope for light


	9. In fide scientiam

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

Five days after their big talk, Oliver found himself propped up against the headboard of his bed in the Queens' Hampton mansion, waiting patiently for his wife to come out of the bathroom and join him in bed. Yeah, that was definitely something he wouldn't have expected to say just a few months ago. But here he was, a book (A Song of Ice and Fire – per Felicity's recommendation, of course) in his hands, chancing glances at the closed bathroom door every few seconds as if that would make her come out faster.

The corners of his lips tugged up a little at the realization that he was completely and utterly whipped. They'd been sharing a bed every night for the past six nights and if that had taught him anything it was that he never wanted to miss her from his life again.

The door opened and Felicity walked towards the bed, clad in one of his t-shirts and yeah, definitely _not_ wearing a bra. He swallowed and let his eyes drift unabashedly from her bare feet over her legs to her makeup free face, not bothering to hide his appreciation. His smile grew wider when he saw a faint blush creep up her cheeks. It filled him with a primal pride that he could manage to make this beautiful, confident woman blush with nothing more than an admiring gaze.

Wordlessly, he put the book on the nightstand and scooted down so that he was completely outstretched on the bed as she slipped under the covers, not hesitating before crawling in his opened arms. Her head came to rest on his heart after placing a quick kiss on his Bratva tattoo, fingers skimming over his bare stomach to his chest. He sighed in contentment as his arms came around her waist, pressing her more into his side. This right here was perfection.

They'd been sleeping like this every night since their talk, and even though they hadn't taken the next step in their relationship, this was everything he could ever want.

They'd both been extremely busy during the week, getting everything in order before they left for their long weekend on Wednesday afternoon, so they hadn't seen much of each other during the days, making their nights together even more special.

Since they'd arrived pretty late that night, they'd just grabbed some take out on the way to the mansion, too lazy to cook anything. Oliver had called ahead and asked the house staff to stock up the fridge and pantry, careful to remember all the things Felicity had told him. She finally wanted to cook for them tomorrow and he was glad that they could circle back to their earlier plans so easily.

He glanced down at the woman in his arms and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. It was quiet moments like this that made him think that everything could have gone so very differently. What if she hadn't come back? What if she had decided to leave him for good after he revealed his secret to her? What if she had gone to the police? There were so many different possibilities and yet, here she was. In his arms. And, dear God, it just felt _right_.

His fingers skimmed over her waist and she let out a small sigh, a huff of hot air brushing over his skin, but her slowed breathing was a dead giveaway that she was already asleep. He smiled and pressed another kiss to the top of her head.

He was glad that their talk had put everything out in the open. Well, admittedly, not _everything_. There were still a million things that he hadn't told her about his time on and off the island, but last Friday had been a good start. It had been the first time that Oliver had talked about what had really happened after the Gambit went down, and yes, it had been difficult to talk about it, but at the same time it had felt good, it had felt _right_ to share this with Felicity. It felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Despite being happier than ever in his life -even before his time on the island- there were doubts nagging at him. Because of their hectic schedules at work, and her clocking overtime every night of the week, they hadn't actually started working on finding out more about the Undertaking, but he was sure they'd start as soon as they got back to Starling City next week. Was he putting her in danger by asking for her help?

This was something he hadn't considered until now. Before, his marriage, while not really wanted, had at least provided a convenient cover for his nightly activities. Nobody would expect a newly-wed Oliver Queen to spend his nights anywhere but at his wife's side. He'd had never really stopped to think about what would happen to his wife when his identity ever were to be uncovered. What ramifications that would have on her life. With no feelings involved he didn't have any reason to ever consider that possibility.

But now, things had changed. There were feelings involved. Feelings that were stronger than anything he'd ever known.

He felt foolish for never thinking about the possible danger he was putting Felicity in, simply by being married to her. And now he wanted to involve her actively in his crusade? What the hell was he thinking? He would never be able to forgive himself if anything were to happen to her because of him.

"Stop thinking so loudly," came his wife's mumbled voice against his skin.

An involuntary smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "I thought you were asleep."

She sighed and dropped a sloppy kiss to his chest before propping her chin on it so she could look at him. "Yeah, I tried, but someone's heart"–she laid her hand over his chest, right above his heart– "decided to go a bit wild," she said and tapped her index finger to the quickened beat of his heart. "What's up?"

He couldn't help but shake his head. This woman was absolutely amazing. Never mind that they'd only been on (friendly) speaking terms for a few weeks, and had started their actual relationship a few days ago, they were already so attuned to each other that it should come as no surprise that something as miniscule as a slightly elevated heart rate would set off alarms. And yet, he couldn't help but marvel at her perceptiveness, and the amount of concern in her voice.

Even though it was a weird angle, he leaned his head down and pressed a soft kiss to her nose. "Just thinking," he assured her and leaned back again.

"About what?"

He sighed. "You know... stuff," he said noncommittally, but at her raised eyebrow he admitted, "You. Me. The danger I'm bringing into your life."

"Oliver," she sighed in return. "I may not have chosen to marry you a few months ago. But just last week I _did_ choose to stay. To be with you. All of you." She brought up her hand from his chest to cup his scruffy cheek. "I know that we still have a long road ahead of us and that we will hit more bumps, but I'm here to stay."

"I don't deserve you," he whispered and leaned into her touch.

She wriggled out of his arms and for a split second he feared that she'd leave, but instead, she swung a leg across him and sat up, straddling his stomach, her hands flat on his chest.

"Stop it," she chided and leaned down, hair swept to one side of her head, her lips only an inch from his. "Maybe I'm the one who doesn't deserve you," she whispered, her breath ghosting over his lips.

Before he could protest, her lips pressed down on his, pulling him into a passionate kiss that almost made him forget his own name. She ran her tongue over his bottom lip, her hands fisting his hair roughly. Gladly, he obliged and opened his mouth, eager to grant her access. Their tongues fought a deliciously slow duel for domination, while his hands found their way over her thighs to her waist, dragging the hem of the t-shirt up so he could feel her soft skin under his calloused fingertips.

She let out a surprised, little yelp when he sat up abruptly, making her slide down into his lap, while never once breaking the contact of their lips. His hands came around to cup her butt, squeezing tightly. He groaned when she swiveled her hips in response, brushing against his groin, in a slow, sensual motion.

One of her hands ran down his back, coming to rest just above the waistband of his sweatpants, her nimble fingers skimming over his skin. In turn, he brought up one of his hands from her butt, moving it between their bodies.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he ran his fingers over her stomach until he reached the exquisite swell of of her breasts. Teasingly, he ran the pad of his thumb over one of her nipples. The sound that ripped from her throat at the contact was caught somewhere between a gasp and a cry, muffled by his lips, sending desire flaring through his body. In what he assumed to be an involuntary reaction, her hips ground into his sharply, the friction enough to remind him of his raging hard-on.

"Felicity," he hissed as her lips broke away from his, and latched onto his neck.

He pinched her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and index finger, making her double her efforts on the pulse point on his neck.

"Baby, if you don't stop that I can't guarantee for anything," he ground out between gritted teeth.

Her teeth grazed over his sensitized skin one last time before she dropped her head to his shoulder, breathing just as heavily as he was.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled and pressed a kiss to his collarbone. "It's my own stupid idea."

"It's not stupid," he assured her, kissing the crown of her head. "You just really need to get off of me or I won't be able to wait."

The breath she huffed out fanned over his skin, making him swallow hard, trying to reign in his reaction.

He had gotten to voice his conditions, so it had only been fair to let her make some demands of her own. She wanted to take it slow. She was reluctant to tell the rest of the family of their new-found... friendliness, out of fear that they would make a big deal out of it. Knowing his sister, she had every reason for concern. But she'd also established a no sex rule that Oliver was sure would be the death of him.

He'd stared at her blankly when she'd told him about it. While he’d had sexual partners since his return from Lian Yu, it still had been more than 7 months since the last time, so give him a break...

Of course he'd understood where she was coming from when she'd explained that she didn't want to rush into a physical relationship with him without solidifying their emotional bond first. Especially, given their history together. He couldn't fault her for being cautious about taking that last step, but God help him, he wanted to claim her as his, make her scream his name, make slow and lazy love to her when they woke up together after a night that was spent exploring each other's bodies and preferences.

"Soon," she promised as she pressed one more kiss to the corner of his mouth and plopped down on the mattress next to him.

He took a minute or five to calm his body before he turned toward her again, dragging her body into his embrace. The least he could do was make use of his cuddle privileges.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

When he woke up, even before he opened his eyes, he instantly knew that he was alone. Gone was the soft warmth of Felicity's body from his arms. He blinked a few times against the stark sunlight shining in through the curtains. His gaze swept over the room. The bathroom door was slightly ajar, but the lights were off, so she was probably not in there.

He sat up, running a hand through his messy hair. With a frown he realized that he actually hadn't felt her leave. Sure, he'd been tired, but that usually never kept his ninja senses from kicking in when there was movement around him.

Disgruntled, he made his way down the stairs toward the kitchen after a quick stop in the bathroom. He could smell coffee and felt a smile tug at his lips until he rounded the corner to the kitchen and found it empty. Upon closer inspection he realized that the coffee machine had been set on a timer.

He poured himself a mug and stepped out on the terrace overlooking the beach. It was a beautiful morning, only a few clouds in the sky with the sun already spreading a comfortable warmth everywhere. He let his gaze drift over the shoreline and then to his left and right.

When his grandparents had bought this place many years ago, they'd also bought all surrounding properties, combing them all into one big estate, so that there were no other houses for more than half a mile in either direction. Oliver couldn't be more grateful. This didn't just give them the utmost privacy, but it also calmed his ever present security concerns.

In the distance he saw a figure moving its way along the beach and after a few minutes he realized it was Felicity. He sipped his coffee while he waited for her to reach the house, trying to tamp down the very vivid Baywatch-esque images of Felicity jogging toward him in a red bikini instead of her running gear.

"Hey," she greeted him happily.

"Morning," he smiled back at her. "Good run?"

"Perfect," she said and came to a stop in front of him, stepping on her toes to press a kiss to his lips, humming in contentment.

Instead of letting her step away, he quickly wrapped his free arm around her and pressed her to his body, swooping down for another, longer kiss.

"Oliver," she sighed, swatting lightly at his chest, but making no real effort to get away. "I'm all gross and sweaty."

"I don't care," he replied while peppering countless kisses over her jawline and down her neck. "I can always help you clean up... and then get dirty again."

She let out a huff of laughter between tiny moans. "Oliver," she warned. Her tone somewhere between admonishing and playful.

He finally let go of her, but not without stealing another deep kiss. "To be continued," he whispered and walked back into the house.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

They spent the rest of the morning eating breakfast and lounging around the house. When lunch time came around, they headed into the small town that was only a few miles away and ate at a little diner that Oliver remembered from the countless summers he'd spent here. The rest of the afternoon was spent strolling around the town center, looking at the window displays of little artisan stores.

After they returned to the house, Felicity took it upon herself to prep their dinner while Oliver was ordered to sit at the kitchen counter and stay out of her way. He was fine with that. At least that gave him a chance to observe his wife for a while.

Their time together was almost sickeningly blissful. Somehow they had instantly fallen into an easy routine. Being with her was just that: easy. Holding hands with her and walking along the beach was a kind of perfection that he hadn't been able to imagine finding in his life for the past six years.

But then one day, Felicity Smoak had stumbled (quite literally so) into his life and despite their initial animosity toward each other, she'd turned out to be a complete game changer.

With her, he was actually happy. With her, he could see a future. With her, he wanted to be a better man.

He knew that he was damaged beyond repair. That there would always be a deep-seated darkness in him. But she was like a ray of sunshine, a never fading light, that illuminated his life, guiding him ever-patiently.

He suppressed a chuckle and hid his face behind his wine glass. If he felt about her like this after only dating for six days (plus six months of being at each other's throats), he sure as hell was in for a ride in the future. With a smile he realized that he couldn't wait to start.

Felicity shot him a curious glance, but focused on cutting vegetables instead of asking him what he was smiling about. And it was just one more remarkable thing about this woman. She seemed to have an almost innate sense when it came to knowing when to push for an answer and when she should just wait for him to talk when he was ready.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

Dinner was amazing. She had been seriously downplaying her cooking skills before tonight.

"What's for dessert?," he asked jokingly, as they were clearing the table.

"Tiramisu," she replied with a wink.

His jaw dropped. "What?"

She stepped on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I never got my happy ending," she shrugged, her eyes glinting with mischief.

A rushed breath left his body and he groaned, "God, you're killing me."

She patted his shoulder in sympathy. "Later, baby," she said lightly and moved past him to grab her glass and the wine bottle. "Now, I wanna try the jacuzzi."

"Not helping," he grumbled, but dutifully followed her outside.

They changed quickly into their bathing suits and reconvened at the steaming jacuzzi. Oliver couldn't help but gape at her body when she took off her robe. She was wearing a black two-piece that left nothing to his imagination. His eyes raked over her long legs, her toned stomach, her ample breasts. When he reached her face, there was a knowing smile playing on her lips while she in turn checked him out.

For the longest time after coming home, he'd been self-conscious about his scars, trying to not let anybody see them. At first, he thought Felicity would be put off by them, but the looks she gave him whenever she saw him with or without a shirt on quickly proved the opposite to be true. It was almost like she didn't even see them, like she looked past them and only saw the man he was underneath them all.

"Are you joining me or not?" she pulled him out of his thoughts, and when he looked up she was already seated in the whirlpool.

He quickly sank into the water next to her, enjoying the warmth surrounding him. For a while, they just sat in silence, sipping their wine and reveling in the peacefulness of the situation.

Felicity put her glass down on the rim of the pool and grabbed her phone. "Let's play truth or dare," she announced gleefully.

He raised his eyebrows. "What are we? 13?"

"Come on, it'll be fun. You can ask me all the naughty stuff." She winked at him, and then added sweetly, "Unless you're afraid."

He growled. "Bring it on."

"Wanna start?"

"Truth," he said without missing a beat.

She contemplated her choices with pursed lips for a second. "How old were you when you had sex for the first time?"

He chuckled. "14. Your turn."

"Okay, wow why does that actually not surprise me at all? Truth."

"Have you ever taken a photo/video of yourself while having sex?"

She drew her brows together, as he looked at her expectantly. "No," she finally answered. "Especially, because I know how easy it is to hack computers. How about you?"

He smiled. "Never been my kind of thing. I might have been reckless before the island, but that was something that I was never into. Was that my next truth?"

"Sure. Dare."

He grinned. "Sit in my lap for the rest of the game."

She narrowed her eyes, but couldn't hide the smile that appeared on her lips. "Nice move, Mr. Queen," she said as she slowly made her way across the water-filled space that was separating them. She placed her knees on either side of his hips and straddled him swiftly, her arms coming up to curl around his neck. Instinctively, his hands came to rest on her hips, his fingertips running small patterns over her skin.

"Your turn," she smirked.

"Dare."

"Don't touch me with your hands for the next ten minutes," she demanded without missing a beat.

His mouth fell open. Was she serious?

"You heard me, paws off, Mister," she ordered and wiggled her hips to shake off his hands.

"You're unbelievable," he muttered and dropped his hands from her waist, his tone somewhere between frustration and amusement.

She gave him a sweet smile. "Truth."

"Hmmm... What's your number?"

She raised her eyebrows. "You really wanna know how many men I've slept with?"

"I wanna know what I'm up against," he said, with a cocky smile.

She pursed her lips, tilting her head to the side, thinking. "Do one night stands count?"

His face fell and he opened and closed his mouth a couple of times without any sound coming out. "You know what?" he finally said and cleared his throat. "I take the question back. I don't wanna know."

She laughed freely and leaned forward, kissing the tip of his nose. "I'm sure you're better than any of them."

He moved his hands up to grab her waist before catching his movement, remembering the dare. "You bet I am," he growled, something primal taking over his mind. "Once you let me, I'll blow your fucking mind."

Desired flickered through her eyes and he felt her thighs clenching around his waist. But then a spark of uncertainty ignited in her heated gaze and she bit her lip.

"Does it bother you?"

"What?"

"The whole no sex thing?" she asked quietly, and he could see the doubt in her eyes.

Screw the dare, he thought and brought up his hands to cup her face. "I want to make love to you, Felicity," he assured her, his thumbs ghosting over her skin. "I want to show you how much I want you and I can't wait to do it, but I also understand why you want to wait."

He sighed and shook his head slightly. "God knows I have a shitty history when it comes to relationships and everything around it, and the history between us isn't exactly... ideal, so I understand that you don't want to rush into the physical part. Not yet, at least. And that's okay."

She stared at him for a few seconds and bit her bottom lip again. "You know I could-"

"No!" he interfered quickly, having followed her train of thought. "We do this together or not at all, Felicity. I don't need you to... take care of me because you feel guilty about this," he said with a fond smile. "Even though I do appreciate the offer."

She leaned forward and kissed him softly and he felt himself melt into the kiss. "I told you I don't deserve you," she mumbled against his lips.

"You deserve everything," he whispered back and he could feel the shudder that made its way through her body.

Just then a series of flashes illuminated the dark sky, followed by loud 'bangs' that tore through the quiet night. Instinctively, Oliver's arms banded tightly around Felicity, trying to protect her from any harm. It took him ten full seconds to realize that it was just fireworks. It took him a few more seconds to even out his breathing and calm his erratic pulse.

When he looked up, he was met by his wife's worried and almost pained eyes. "What happened to you on that island?" she whispered hoarsely, as she scraped her fingers lightly over the nape of his neck.

Her eyes widened and he knew that she hadn't meant to ask that out loud. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be intrusive or pushy. You know how my mouth works."

He raised his eyebrows in silent amusement and she groaned and rolled her eyes. "Not like _that_ , because you obviously don't know how I do... _that_ ," she moved her hands vaguely in the air before adding, "Yet."

She took a deep breath. "What I meant to say is that I don't have a functioning brain-to-mouth filter. But of course you already knew that."

"I did," he grinned. "You babbled the very first time we met."

She dropped her forehead to his shoulder and groaned again. "Please don't remind me of that. I'm still mortified. And you were seriously pissed."

He chuckled. "I was. I remember being late for a meeting and you just came out of nowhere," he said and let his fingers glider over her bare back.

She pressed a kiss to his collarbone and turned around in his lap, so that her back was against his chest and their faces were cheek to stubbled cheek. "I'm pretty sure you ran into me."

They watched the bursts of colors flashing across the sky. "Is that why you made my life a living hell for a week?" he quipped, his fingertips skimming over her stomach.

He felt the chuckle that escaped her lips reverberate through their joined bodies. "No," she said and turned her head to press a lingering kiss to his cheek. "That was because you killed the prototype that I had been working on for more than a year, and then just shrugged it off like it was not a big deal. I don't like it when people mess with my stuff. Plus, you were a jerk."

He hummed in agreement. "But to be fair, that whole hacking thing you did was a pretty jerk-y move, too."

She sighed, sinking further into his embrace. "I know, it was just a knee-jerk reaction because I was so pissed at you for being so damn cocky and arrogant and freakishly handsome."

They were silent for a few minutes, simply enjoying being so close to each other, when a thought struck him. He'd been wondering about this before, usually in the aftermath of one of their fights when he was hopped-up on adrenaline and anger.

"Do you think we would've met again if it hadn't been for our meddling mothers?" he asked quietly.

She took a moment before she answered carefully, "I don't know. Probably? Love always finds a way."

He stilled beneath her, his fingers frozen in place right next to her belly button.

Love.

He could pinpoint the exact moment when she realized what she'd said. Her body stiffened under his fingers, a rushed breath leaving her lips.

He was at a loss for words. For the past week they'd been circling around that little four letter word. Who was he kidding? For him it had been weeks. Ever since the Unidac auction and bringing her home as The Hood. He knew that he felt things for her that he couldn't even begin to describe. Things that he'd never felt before. Was it love? Was it just an insane amount of passion, rooted in their undeniable chemistry?

Her kidnapping had opened his eyes and his damaged heart. Having her ripped from his life was something that had the potential of destroying the last bit of wholesomeness he had left. Losing her in any way was no option.

He realized that love wasn't even close to what he felt for her. It was so much more. And quite frankly, it scared him to feel so strongly about someone. He feared that not just his family name but also his crime fighting alter ego would put a gigantic target on the backs of his loved ones. Felicity was no exception.

As he stared into the dark sky, stars twinkling brightly, he realized that he wanted her to know. To hell with his fears and doubts. This beautiful woman deserved to know that she was loved and cherished. That he would go to the ends of the world for her. That the wanted _everything_ with her. That she was the reason that he finally dared to hope for a happy future.

A few seconds went by. Then a few minutes.

"Felicity," he finally whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

He felt her body shudder against him and she dipped her head before she sat up and moved away from his lap, his fingers slipping helplessly from her stomach.

"Don't run again," he pleaded. "Talk to me."

She turned around, eyes swimming with unshed tears. "I'm scared," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, as her eyes sought out his gaze almost desperately.

He grabbed her hands under the water, squeezing them encouragingly.

She gave him the faintest of smiles before she continued with a trembling voice. "What I feel for you scares me. I've _never_ felt like this about anyone. And it all happened so fast, one second I hated you and the next..." her voice broke off.

"I fell so hard and so fast for you, Oliver. This... _us..._ is so unbelievably intense and unlike anything I've ever experienced before. And I find myself asking a million questions. What if you don't feel the same way? What if what I feel for you goes away as quickly as it came? What if you get bored with me? What if-"

"Felicity," he cut in sharply, unable to hold his tongue any longer. "I feel the same way. _Exactly_ the same way," he assured her, cupping her face. "I'm scared, too. I'm scared of the sheer strength of my feelings for you. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. I'm terrified that my enemies will use my love for you against me. I've felt what it's like to almost lose you and I never ever wanna feel like that again. It almost tore me apart."

"You got me out of there," she reminded him softly.

He sighed. "Yes, and I'll always come for you," he vowed.

"I don't want to fight these feelings anymore, Oliver," she whispered, taking a deep breath. "I'm... I'm in love with you."

He surged forward, his lips meeting hers in a searing kiss. "You don't know how happy it makes me to hear you say that," he mumbled against her lips, and brought her in for another passionate kiss. "I'm in love with you, too."

He felt her lips curl up in a smile. "Look at us. Happy married couple. Who would've thought?"

"Not me," he admitted and sighed. "So what's next?"

She leaned back and looked him straight in the eye. "Now we get out of this jacuzzi because I'm starting to look like a prune."

"The sexiest prune," he interjected quickly.

She grinned cheekily at him in response before continuing, "And then we eat the tiramisu and if you're lucky, you'll get to give me a massage."

He laughed loudly. God, this felt good.

Once they were standing on the porch again, he wrapped a big fluffy towel around her and used it to pull her into his body.

"I love you, Mrs. Queen," he whispered against her lips and kissed her again.

He was rewarded with the biggest smile and a sultry kiss.

"And I love you, Mr. Queen."

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title translation: To our faith, add knowledge.


	10. Inter spem et metum

* * *

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

Friday and Saturday were spent much like Thursday. They went into town, enjoyed walks along the beach, cooked together, and at the end of each day she found herself in his lap in the jacuzzi or on the couch, making out like teenagers.

Life is good, she thought to herself.

Being with Oliver was pure bliss, even if she sometimes found it hard to process how suddenly happiness had come upon them. And yet, she wouldn't change their rocky start for anything. It had made their relationship into what it was now: better and unlike anything she'd ever shared with another person.

Putting their feelings out there in the open on Thursday had been the best thing they could've done. Yes, it was sudden and yes, maybe it was unconventional. But let's be honest, when had their relationship ever been anything remotely conventional?

She was glad that she'd listened to her heart and for once had thrown caution and logic to the wind. It had turned out to be one of the best decisions of her life.

Despite it being Saturday, right now Oliver was on a business call in the living room downstairs. Some investor had called with concerns about something or other and Oliver had reluctantly agreed to Walter's request to talk to him.

Felicity, on the other hand, was in the upstairs master bedroom, slipping into the black lace underwear she'd bought on a whim back in Starling City a few days ago. When she'd walked past the expensive lingerie shop during her lunch break, her wandering gaze had caught on the set the mannequin was modeling. It wasn't overly exciting, there was no garter belt or thigh highs. No, it had been the intricate patterns drawn on the black lace that almost looked like curled arrows that had really caught her attention. Her first thought had been about the face Oliver would make when he saw her wearing only the bra and matching thong branded with _his_ mark.

Now, as she stood in front of the floor length mirror in the Queens' vacation home, wearing nothing more than two scraps of material, the nervousness that she hadn't felt when she bought the set, hit her like a brick wall.

What the hell? Why was she even feeling nervous?

It wasn't like she'd never done this before. On the contrary, there had been plenty of times. Okay, so, no, she hadn't had a ton of boyfriends, but during the times she wasn't in a relationship, she also wasn't opposed to the occasional one night stand. Bottom line, she had a healthy sex life and logically she knew that she had absolutely no reason to be this nervous.

And she knew she was good at it, too. She been told as much by the guys she'd slept with, and yet there was a lingering sensation of wariness. She'd heard the infamous stories of Oliver Queen's numerous and plentiful conquests in former years. Especially his time before the island was a blur of appearances in every and any local and national tabloid, every time with a different model on his arm.

So yeah, fine, maybe she was a little intimidated by his vast experience, and _maybe_ she was just a little scared that she'd completely pale in comparison to the myriad of beautiful women he'd slept with in the past. Who wouldn't be?

She took a steadying breath and slipped on a short, black silk robe.

Screw all that. Screw her fears. Screw her doubts and insecurities.

She wanted this. She wanted Oliver. All of him.

After another deep breath, she left the safety of the bedroom and slowly descended the stairs, feeling the coldness of the marble steps under the soles of her bare feet. She stopped on the last step, fingers fiddling with the strings of her open robe.

Oliver was pacing in front of the window front, the sleeves of his dark gray henley rolled up over his elbows, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. In an involuntary motion her tongue darted out to run over her lips. He was definitely a delicious sight.

She waited patiently for a few seconds until he turned around, one hand running through his short hair. She threw him a coy smile from her position on the stairs.

His phone slipped from his hands and hit the stone floor with a thud that would've made her cringe any other time, were she not so distracted by the stunned look on his handsome face. His eyes widened and his arms went slack, dropping down to his sides. His mouth was slightly agape, whatever he'd wanted to say swallowed by his surprise.

They just stood there, half a room between them, staring at each other for a few silent seconds before he finally found his voice again.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice breathless.

Her lips curled into a proud smile at seeing the effect she had on him. "I want you, Oliver," she answered simply.

His eyebrows drew together in confusion. "But-"

"No," she cut in firmly and took the last step, slowly making her way across the room towards him. "No more buts. No more excuses. No more waiting."

She stopped right in front of him. "I love you and I want to show you in any way possible," she said, voice steady as a rock.

His Adam's apple bopped up and down as he swallowed hard. "No more waiting?" he asked as she placed her hands around his neck, drawing their bodies together.

She beamed up at him and shook her head. "No more waiting," she whispered and stepped on the tips of her toes while pulling his head down a little, bringing their lips close. Oh so close.

For a few seconds they just stood like that, their hot breaths mingling, until Felicity grew restless. "Are you going to kiss me?" she questioned with a cocked eyebrow.

He let out a strangled groan and finally _finally_ connected their lips in a searing kiss.

As his lips worked relentlessly against hers, she couldn't suppress a throaty moan. Oliver used her distraction to swiftly scoop her up from the ground, his hands gliding over her ass, squeezing firmly as she framed his hips with her bare legs.

She didn't even realize that he'd started walking until she felt her back pressed against a wall, his broad frame pinning her against the cold surface. She gasped against his lips at the unexpected contact. She could feel his lips curl into what surely was a cocky smile. Oh yeah, if the past few days and their countless make out sessions had taught her anything, it was that he loved it when he made her gasp or moan.

Slipping her hand under his henley, Felicity felt the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips, nails deftly raking over his ridiculously sculpted chest and abdomen. A smile crept on her lips as his hands stilled on her butt and he let out a groan. Two could play this game.

His hands slowly moved up her spine, sending a shiver of anticipation to her core as his fingertips reached the soft fabric of her bra. But they didn't stop there. Before she could analyze why he didn't unclasp her bra, his mouth latched onto a particularly sensitive spot on her throat and all she could do was crane her neck and give him even better access as he worked his way down.

"You're so goddamn beautiful, Felicity," he whispered into her skin, nipping lightly at the delicate flesh right above her collar bone.

Her breath hitched at the sound of his softly spoken words and she quickly brought her hands from under his shirt to cup his face, forcing him to look at her. His pupils were blown, his usually vibrant blue eyes impossibly darkened by his desire.

She leaned in for a short, sweet kiss. "I love you," she whispered against his lips, feeling a shiver run through his body. "Now make love to your wife," she ordered and bit her bottom lip teasingly.

He growled in response, capturing her lips for another languid kiss, before he finally started moving them up the stairs towards the master bedroom. He took his time, pressing her against the wall every few steps, letting her feel his growing desire by grinding against her hips.

When they finally made it to the bedroom, he untangled her legs from around his waist and dropped her unceremoniously on the mattress. The breath was knocked out of her for a moment when she landed and she let out a surprised laugh that quickly died on her tongue when she saw Oliver standing at the end of the bed, a predatory smile curling his slightly swollen lips.

She gulped. Oh boy, she was in for a ride.

He slowly tucked his shirt off, letting it drop on the floor next to his feet without ever taking his eyes off of hers. With a quick tuck on her ankles that should definitely not be this fucking sexy he dragged her to the edge of the bed so that she could easily sit up, her legs dangling off the bed. She slowly brought herself in a sitting position.

She took a moment to stare up at her husband who was returning her heated gaze with just as much ferocity. Finally, she tore her eyes from his and let her gaze wander down his body. In the dim light of the room she could see the dark shadows of his scars and the black lines of the tattoos that scattered his torso. Not for the first time she wondered what kind of an absolute hell he'd encountered during those five years on the island.

The whisper of her name pulled her out of her thoughts and when she looked up, she was met with a pained and vulnerable gaze. She scrambled to get up, off the bed, onto the tips of her toes, and pressed a sweet kiss against his lips. He sighed against the warm caress of her lips and his hands framed her waist, drawing her even closer.

"I love you," he said quietly.

She smiled widely. "I love you, too."

He mirrored her smile and turned them around, sitting down on the bed and tugging her along so she ended up straddling his lap.

And then _finally_ his fingers found the clasp of her bra, opening it with a flick of his fingertips. She let the black material drop to her lap waiting for his next move.

She didn't have to wait long. After a beat of them just staring into each other's eyes, he licked his lips and ducked his head, practically devouring her left nipple while his hand found her right breast. Suddenly, Felicity was caught in a flood of sensations. It was all teeth and lips and his unbelievably talented fingers, driving her mad. Her head fell back, body arching towards him, while her hips acted on their own accord, rolling against his, seeking the delicious friction.

His name fell from her lips in a breathless whisper, too caught up in all the wonderful feelings surging through her body. Suddenly, the assault of his lips on her breasts stopped, drawing a protesting whimper from her. But before she could put her protest into words, he flipped her onto the bed, hovering over her.

He looked down at her, a soft smile playing on his lips as he took her in. "Are you ready to have your world rocked, Mrs. Queen?"

She raised an eyebrow at his playful, cocky tone. "Pretty sure of yourself, Mr. Queen?" she questioned teasingly.

He just grinned at her and tugged roughly on her black thong, ripping the delicate fabric apart.

She stared at him in shock. What the...?

Her angry thoughts didn't get very far before her mouth fell open with a gasp as Oliver's lips descended on her clit.

Holy fucking shit.

His hands ran up and down her thighs, massaging them lightly, spreading them wider while his tongue, holy hell, his tongue worked its magic. She might not be a wallflower when it came to sex, she'd had plenty of it in her life, and yet, she could count the number of times a guy had gone down on her on one hand. None of those few times had been particularly satisfying. Suffice it to say that Oliver made up for all of that.

He hummed against her, the vibrations sending a jolt of unfiltered desire through her. He sucked on her clit lightly, enough to be pleasurable but not in the slightest enough to get her off. He was taking his sweet time and Felicity wasn't sure if she loved or hated it.

"You're so fucking wet," he groaned and as if to prove his discovery he slid a finger into her in one fluid motion.

She bucked her hips in response, just short of being overwhelmed by being filled by him. How the hell was she supposed to last?

His finger started slowly pumping in an out of her as he left a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses from her clit to her entrance.

Her hands left her breasts, just now realizing that she'd been massaging them roughly, to tangle in Oliver's hair, grasping onto the short, dirty blonde strands. "Please," she whimpered.

She could literally feel him smile against her, and then he pulled out completely, leaving her empty and aching, his mouth hovering half an inch above her hot center.

"Oliver," she moaned, not caring at all how desperate she sounded.

He left a teasing kiss on her clit and ran his thumb across her entrance, his tongue slowly gliding over her outer lips. With his free hand he pinned her writhing body down to the bed, making her groan in frustration.

Finally, he took pity on her when he sank two fingers into her without preamble, leaving her gasping for air. Oh God.

He set a punishing rhythm, moving in and out of her with deft strokes, curling his fingers now and then. That alone would've been enough to send her over the edge in minutes, but coupled with his lips sucking and nipping at her clit, his stubble creating the most delicious kind of friction, she couldn't hold on any longer.

With a loud gasp of his name tumbling from her lips, back arching from its spot on the soft mattress, she came with a shuddering intensity, little spots of black dancing before her eyes. He slowed down a little bit but never fully stopped his ministrations, riding her all the way through her orgasm.

He would've probably made her come again if she hadn't tugged roughly on his hair, forcing him to look up.

He got the hint and pulled his fingers out of her, making a show of licking each digit languidly, lapping up her juices. That looked way sexier than it should, she thought fleetingly.

He positioned himself over her while she was still trying to regain her bearings when he started peppering light kisses over her breast, moving up to her collar bone, her throat, her cheek, her nose and finally her lips where she could taste herself on his tongue.

"Hearing you come is the best fucking sound in the world," he whispered huskily and moved away from her lips to suck on her ear lobe.

Dear God, was he trying to kill her?

"Oliver," she breathed out and successfully regained his attention.

"What?" he grinned down at her.

"I just... I need a minute."

He chuckled lightly and rolled off of her, only to land on his side, his head propped up on his hand, sharp eyes drinking her in.

"So I gather it was.."

"Intense," she finished. He raised his eyebrows and she continued, "In a good way. In an amazing way," she assured him, bringing one hand up to cup his cheek. "I've just never... experienced _that_."

He smiled softly at her. "I'm glad I'm your first then," he said with a wink.

She huffed out a laugh. This right here was perfection. Looking at their history together, one might think that it would always be that tense. Always going a million miles an hour, never stopping, always giving all or nothing. And while, yes, in a way, it was still like that, sharing a passion she'd never experienced before, there was also _this_. The light moments where they could take a moment and laugh together even if they were in the middle of having amazing sex.

And as he returned her bright smile, Felicity sat up again, her hands deftly moving over his stomach to the waistband of his sweatpants. She lightly raked her fingernails over his skin just above the rim, provoking a groan to fall from his lips. It was her turn to rock his world.

Kneeling beside him, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his sweats and boxers, dragging the last two barriers between them down, while he dutifully lifted his hips to help her. When he was finally gloriously naked in front of her, she took a moment to take in his whole body for the first time.

Smaller scars littered his thighs and calves, going all the way down to his ankles. She pushed down the resurfacing pang of sadness and concentrated on the here and now. No matter what had happened to him, right now he was here, with her, happy and alive. What more could she ask for?

She reached for his half hard cock, gripping him firmly, as she moved to straddle his thighs, the other hand cupping his balls.

"Felicity," Oliver groaned and brought up his hands to cup her face and pull her down into a searing kiss, sucking on her bottom lip.

She started moving her hand on his dick then, moving slowly up and down, taking delight in the way his hips bucked in response. Her thumb flitted over his tip, gathering the drop of moisture before lifting it up to her lips. She locked her eyes with his, never breaking the contact while she slowly licked the pad of her thumb, tasting his salty desire.

Like nothing happened, she continued to stroke him, her gaze flitting over his face, his slightly widened eyes, blown pupils, and tightly set jaw.

"Stop trying to hold onto your control," Felicity urged him.

He groaned and something flashed through his eyes. And then suddenly, he was moving, flipping her over so she was pressed into the mattress beneath her once more. Only able to let out another surprised gasp.

"Be careful what you wish for," he growled, bringing one hand down between them to rub the tip of his cock against her center, spreading the moisture all over.

She bit her lip in a futile attempt to contain a loud moan. "Oliver..."

He leaned down to kiss her hard and quick. She could tell that he was at a tipping point, unable to hold on much longer.

"I need you, Oliver. Now," she urged him. "I need you inside of me."

His eyes grew impossibly darker as he obliged, first just pressing his tip inside her, staying still for a few seconds before he started moving again. His groans getting louder with each inch that he ever so slowly entered her with.

"Oh God," she whimpered at the feeling of being filled by him. It clearly had been a while for her. Her body not used to the feeling of being stretched in the best possible way anymore.

When he was fully sheathed inside of her, he stilled again, looking down at her. "You okay?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm, but she could still hear the strained tremor from trying to hold still.

She leaned up and kissed him. "I'm good," she replied reassuringly and bucked her hips to emphasize her point.

He groaned and took his cue, rolling his hips against hers. Slowly at first, gaining speed with every languid stroke until he set a punishing pace, the bed creaking beneath them every time their hips met.

She felt herself nearing her second orgasm, Oliver pounding in and out of her. He grabbed one of her legs and raised it, positioning it over his shoulder. The new angle allowed him to drive deeper into her, a strangled grunt leaving his lips.

"Felicity," he hissed and moved one hand between them to rub her clit, bringing her to the edge.

A sharp pinch of his thumb and index finger threw her over.

"Oliver," she yelled, desperately gripping his shoulders, her fingernails raking over his skin, undoubtedly leaving marks.

She clenched around him while he pounded into her once, twice, before he grunted her name and was right there with her, falling over the edge, spilling into her.

They breathed heavily for a few minutes with him still inside of her. He had dropped his head to rest on her shoulder, completely spent. She felt his warm breath fanning over her collarbone, sending shivers through her.

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his slightly damp hair. "I love you, Mr. Queen."

He lifted his head, a lazy smile on his lips. "I love you, too, Mrs. Queen."

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

A ray of light shining through the half closed curtains of the bedroom woke her. The even breathing puffing against her neck told her that Oliver, who was wrapped around her back, was still asleep. No wonder.

It had been an intense night. Some time after their first time she'd woken him with her lips around his cock. A few hours later they had decided to take a shower, but had only made it to the marble sink where he had bent her over and fucked her from behind. And then just a couple of hours ago, she'd ridden him towards the final orgasm of the night.

She stretched her legs carefully and yup, she was sore as hell. But just the thought of why she felt like that made her core tingle with desire.

From the beside table she grabbed her phone and pressed the power button. As soon as the welcome screen had faded, it started beeping uncontrollably with an onslaught of missed calls, texts, emails and news alerts.

What the hell?

"You said no phones," Oliver grumbled, nipping at the skin of her neck playfully.

"I know," she huffed. "I just wanted to check the time, but then my phone basically imploded from all the alerts," she answered absentmindedly as she opened a video link.

Oliver moved behind her so he could look over her shoulder, his fingers digging teasingly into her sides, pulling her against his erection.

She laughed. "God, you're insatiable."

He bit her shoulder playfully, but any other reply was drowned out when the video finally started playing.

"Emergency services are scrambling to reach the victims of last night's earthquake that shook Starling City to its core."  
Video footage from a helicopter circling over Starling was cut in, just when houses began crumbling, entire blocks being leveled in seconds.  
"The quake that started at 7.43 last night caused damage of catastrophic proportions throughout the city and that has leveled more than half of The Glades was mostly contained to the east side of that Starling City district. The aftershocks and tremors could be felt throughout the entire city, blowing out windows, damaging houses, cars, and also temporarily affecting the city's power grid."  
They played another video of people roaming the street, throwing trash cans through store windows, and people screaming for help.  
"The Glades have been turned into what looks like a war zone. The destruction is catastrophic. Reports of looters that are instilling terror on the already crumbling district reach us with each passing minute. Stay with us to hear what our seismology expert Brion Markov has to say and to learn more about what you can do to help the victims."

The screen went black.

Felicity turned around to face Oliver whose mouth had fallen open in shock, his eyes mirroring her own utter surprise until a flash of panic passed through his blue orbs.

She instantly knew what he was thinking: their families. She combed through the emails and texts, quickly realizing that Thea had left numerous messages telling her that she and the rest of the Queens and Felicity's mother were okay, since all of them had been having dinner together at the Queen Mansion where they had also felt tremors, but no one was hurt and nothing had been damaged.

Felicity let out a relieved sigh. Next to her Oliver did the same and pulled her flush against his body, seeking her warmth and comfort. She let one hand rest on his chest right over his heart while the other raked soothingly through his messy hair.

"They're okay," she whsipered. "Our families are okay."

They spent the rest of the morning lounging in bed, just holding each other, any spark of lust from earlier forgotten. Oliver had quickly called Diggle and was relieved to hear that he'd joined Carly and her son to visit some family outside the city for the weekend. While they lay in bed they watched some more news videos.

"It is a known fact that there is a geological fold running right below Starling City, but if you had asked any expert prior to the quake if something of this magnitude was possible, all of them would've said no. The whole area would've been considered geologically stable," the TV station seismology expert said and continued, "Now that it has happened there are more questions than answers. I've talked to my colleagues from all over the world and we are simply baffled by what has occurred here."

Another expert chimed in, "Brion is right. An earthquake of this magnitude should've affected a much bigger area than it actually has. We simply cannot explain the fact why the biggest damage is contained to a relatively small area in The Glades."

"Usually there is a series of smaller earthquakes before one of this magnitude, precursors if you will, that forewarn us, but in this case there was nothing. Out of nowhere the big quake started."

A man on the street said, "This is God's way of punishing this city for becoming so dark. There is so much darkness in these streets and nobody is doing anything about it. But why has He chosen to punish us, the poor that are already struggling to survive? Why has He spared the rich?"

Another man, a self-proclaimed conspiracist, exclaimed, "This wasn't an act of God, this was terrorism, plain and simple. Someone wanted to level this city and they partially succeeded."

Felicity stopped the video, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach. "Oliver, what if..." She couldn't bring herself to finish her thought, knowing that Oliver would catch on.

He sat up straight, raking his hands over his face. " _This_ was the Undertaking."

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title translation: Between hope and fear


	11. Acta est fabula

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

She rolled over on her side, Oliver's heavy hand on her hip slipping down a little, but never breaking contact entirely. With a tired smile she took in his appearance. His hair was sticking out in every direction, the scruff on his cheeks a little more prominent than usual, a faint purple-ish mark around his left eye only upstaged by the dark circles _under_ his eyes. She sighed in exasperation. It had been a rough couple of weeks.

After hastily returning from their getaway to the Hamptons to a crippled Starling City, they'd both busied themselves with finding out what happened. She had scoured every inch of the internet, had watched days worth of security cam footage, had left no stone unturned and yet she still came up empty-handed. Suffice it to say that she was pissed off.

Oliver had approached their research in a more hands-on capacity, roaming the streets of Starling City at night, trying to extract information from names on The List. But so far no one had caved to his threats. In addition to that, he and Diggle were patrolling the Glades every night, in a futile attempt to keep the countless looters and gangs at bay. They were losing the battle, especially with the police basically avoiding the Glades altogether.

He'd come home only a few hours ago, and despite being as quiet as possible, Felicity had woken up, having developed somewhat of a sixth sense when it came to him. She could always tell when he was close by and when he was hurt. Like last night.

Someone had managed to stab his arm. It was just a flesh wound that had already clotted over, but it still made her shudder just thinking about it. He, of course, had just shrugged it off, saying it wasn't a big deal. Her responding scowl had been enough to shut him up while she'd cleaned and bandaged the wound.

His hand tightened on her hip, the unmistakable sign that he was coming to. She sighed loudly in protest. "Go back to sleep, Oliver. You're running on fumes and you're only putting yourself in more danger if you don't rest."

"Can't sleep when I have my beautiful wife sleeping next to me naked," he mumbled without opening his eyes, emphasizing his point by running his hand over her bare back and ass.

She silently shook her head, trying to suppress the smile on her lips. "Well, then I'll leave and you can go back to sleep," she suggested and scooted away from his wandering hands.

Before she could move more than two inches, she suddenly found herself on her back, pressed into the mattress by Oliver's equally naked body.

His lips moved next to the shell of her ear, sending flashes of desire coursing through her body. "Can't sleep when my beautiful, naked wife isn't sleeping next to me either."

She huffed out a laugh. This man was unbelievable. And insatiable, a fact evidenced by his hardness pressing against her thigh.

"Oliver," she scolded playfully, "Sleep, not sex!"

"Mhhh," he hummed and latched onto her neck, sucking at that sport right below her ear that had her vision swim for a moment.

No! He needed the rest.

With her last remaining shred of control she pushed at his shoulders. His frustrated groan almost made her rethink her decision to make him stop. Almost.

"Oliver," she sighed. "I have an idea that I wanted to run by you."

"I have some ideas, too," he replied without missing a beat, wiggling his brows suggestively. "All of them include you being tied to the bed frame."

She let out a garbled sound that she would probably be embarrassed of if she wasn't busy being pinned down by her insanely hot and sexed up husband.

"Actually," she finally managed to squeeze out, "I'm talking about The Undertaking."

His head shot up to meet her eyes, seeing that she was serious. He let out something that sounded a lot like a growl before rolling off of her and slumping into the mattress.

"Talk about buzz kill," he mumbled. "We've been hitting dead end after dead end with The Undertaking and haven't found any leads."

She bit her lip. "Yes, we have."

He regarded her with a questioningly raised eyebrow.

"My mother," she stated matter-of-factly. "We know she's involved in this, otherwise I wouldn't have been kidnapped and used as leverage."

A flicker of pain flashed over Oliver's face, his eyes taking on that distant look he sometimes had when he was remembering something. Her hand stroking softly over his cheek brought him back.

"Don't go there, Oliver. All of that is in the past," she reassured him, sensing that he was thinking of their time apart, quickly leaning over and pressing a kiss to his lips.

He nodded slowly. "You want me to pay her a visit as The Hood?"

"Yes and no," she said. "I don't think you questioning her would work. Whoever is behind this felt the need to kidnap and harm her only daughter in order to make her comply with whatever his demands were. I think she's more scared of the man in black than she'd be of The Hood."

"What are you saying?" Oliver questioned cautiously.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for his reaction before replying, "I'm saying we should take a page from his playbook."

"No." His reply was immediate and resolute as he bolted upright.

She followed him into a sitting position. "It's the only way and you know it," she said, raising her chin defiantly.

He shook his head and got up from the bed. "I need some air."

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ARROW ⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

His eyes roamed the vast space of the ballroom of Starling City's Savoy Hotel. He recognized almost all of the guests, most of them from his father's list. It made him sick to think that they were all involved in the mass murder of thousands of innocent people.

"Stow your grumpy face, Oliver," his wife scolded from his side. He was pretty sure the annoyed scowl hadn't left her face since she had let him in on her idea to interrogate her mother yesterday. They'd really butted heads over the issue. It wasn't like he hadn't known this before, but Felicity was at least as pigheaded as him, not budging one inch from her position.

After an intense sparring/therapy session with Diggle, he'd finally agreed (still, with a whole lot of grumbling).

So here they were, at the Help The Glades Gala, organized by his mother, waiting for Donna Smoak to leave. Felicity was fidgeting next to him, a clear sign that whatever fervor she'd put into convincing him of her idea, hadn't quite translated into a boost of confidence.

He snaked one arm around her and pulled her into his body, ignoring her surprised inhale, and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. The effect was immediate: her whole body relaxed into his, fingers finding a way under his suit jacket, roaming over his white dress shirt in search of some warmth and comfort, pulling their bodies flush together.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I shouldn't have pushed so hard. I'm just... frustrated. And tired of not getting anywhere. I do understand that you want to keep me safe, but at the same time I don't see any other way." She rested her chin on his chest so she could look at him.

He smiled down at her. "I get that, believe me, I do. I shouldn't have rejected your idea so rigorously," he told her earnestly. "Just the idea of... using you like that after everything you've been through is making me feel like I've failed you."

"You haven't failed me, Oliver," she assured him, cupping his face with both of her hands.

"I've failed to come up with an idea that keeps you away from the danger."

"We have to do this, Oliver."

He leaned his forehead against hers, letting his eyes fall shut. "I know."

"We'll hold all the power. You'll be in complete control of what happens and wow I just sounded like I was quoting 50 Shades of Grey," she groaned.

A chuckle escaped from his lips. "You wanna tell me something, Mrs. Queen? Wanna spice up our sex life?"

Her decidedly unlady-like snort made him open his eyes, a glint of amusement simmering in them. "I believe we have plenty of spice in our sex life, don't you think, Mr. Queen?

"Oh, my God, please stop talking _right now_ or you can do this whole mission on your own," came the sharp voice of Diggle over the comms.

Oliver couldn't help but smile widely when his wife started blushing profusely. "Sorry, Dig," he said between chuckles, his hand on Felicity's butt saying the opposite.

Her head whipped up to glare at him, but instead her eyes focused on something behind him. "My mom's leaving," she murmured and suddenly all the levity from just a few seconds ago was gone.

He turned discreetly and watched as Donna Smoak said goodbye to his mother. "Dig, you're up. Meet you at the warehouse in twenty."

"Copy that."

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

He fastened the handcuffs around her wrists, careful not to put them on too tight. Felicity covered his gloved hands with her own smaller ones, halting his movement.

"It's okay, Oliver, we've talked about this. Let's just do everything as we practiced," she said calmly. "When all of this is over, we'll hopefully know what the hell is going on."

"Yeah," he agreed defeatedly, knowing full well that there was no going back now. "I love you."

She beamed up at him, stepping on her tip toes and pressing a long kiss to his lips. "I love you, too. Now tie me up, Mr. Queen."

He groaned at the mental images that immediately invaded his mind at her teasing words. Instead of answering, he finished up with the handcuffs and grabbed the black bag from the table next to them. After an encouraging nod from his wife and a deep breath, he placed it over her head.

With a clenched jaw he moved his mask in its place and put up the hood.

Showtime!

He grabbed Felicity's arm gently and led her into the next room where he was greeted by a loudly jabbering Donna Smoak.

"This is preposterous. I demand to be let go."

Oliver came to a stop right in front of her. "Donna Smoak," he growled, voice further distorted by his voice modulator. "You have failed this city." He put some pressure on Felicity's shoulders who then sank to her knees in front of where her mother was bound to a metal chair in the middle of an abandoned warehouse, while he pulled off the bag from her head.

From his position next to her he could see her blinking rapidly, hair in a bit of disarray, mascara smudged, her widened eyes zeroing in on her mother.

"Felicity," the older woman croaked out. "No, not again." Her eyes flitted up to look up at him. "Don't hurt her, please! She's already been through so much."

He ignored the flicker of surprise he saw running across his wife's face. "I don't want to hurt her, but I need answers and you'll give them to me." With a yank, he pulled Felicity up from her position on the floor and maneuvered her into another metal chair, putting mother and daughter back to back to each other. He then proceeded to but the black bag over Donna's head.

"Who's behind the Undertaking?" he asked her.

"I can't tell you," she whimpered. "He'll kill me."

"Who is he?"

"I can't," she basically screamed.

"Wrong answer," he said gruffly.

Like they had planned earlier, he quickly wrapped his right hand in a small towel while Felicity twisted her body sideways.

"Last chance," he offered, but he got no response.

With a deep sigh he pulled his hand back before slamming it into the back of Felicity's chair, just in time with a pained groan coming from her lips. They repeated the action a few times, each hit accompanied by a heart-wrenching whimper from the older Smoak woman.

"No, stop, please," she screamed, letting Oliver's fist freeze mid-air.

"Then talk," he demanded roughly.

"I can't. He will come after me. Please stop hurting my daughter, I can't give you anything."

Felicity gave him a little nod. Time for phase two. He reached into his pocket, pulling out three little red capsules and handed them to her.

She popped one of them against her forehead, just above her left eyebrow, one right under her nose, and she bit on the last one with her front teeth. The grueling effect was immediate, the thick, red liquid running over her face, dripping from her eyebrow. She turned her head for him to look at the "damage". He nodded grimly, telling her silently that it looked authentic enough, at least in the dim light of the darkened warehouse.

With a pained groan she let herself be lifted from the chair and dropped to the floor in front of her mother, hands still bound together by the handcuffs.

In a fluid motion he pulled the bag off Donna's head, giving her only a few seconds to blink wildly at the sight in front of her. "Felicity, no. Oh God, I'm so sorry! Please, baby girl, I'm so sorry."

Oliver could see the pure horror in her face as she took in the "wounds" on her daughter's face, but now wasn't the time to feel sympathetic.

"I was going easy on her until now, Mrs. Smoak. I won't be as kind during the next round."

For a few long seconds, Donna just stared at him with pleading eyes, repeating the word 'no' over and over again. With an inaudible groan, he pulled out a knife from his belt and grabbed Felicity blonde locks, pulling her up as carefully as he could without giving anything away, ignoring the guttural sound that ripped from Donna's throat.

"Your choice," he said and took a step towards the chair Felicity had just been in.

"No, stop. I'll tell you," Donna screamed desperately. "I'll tell you everything I know. Just please, stop hurting my daughter."

Felicity plopped down into the chair, a victorious but also pained smile playing on her lips. Making sure that Donna's head was turned the other way, he quickly cupped his wife's cheek, brushing his thumb over her cheek reassuringly. This had been her plan and despite his reservations, it had worked.

"Talk," he ordered and moved away from Felicity to face her mother.

"Who's behind the Undertaking?"

"You have to promise me that you'll protect her if he comes after us. Please! Promise me you'll look out for her," the older woman pleaded with him.

He nodded his confirmation.

Donna swallowed hard before she started talking. "It's Malcolm Merlyn. He's the one who's behind it all."

Behind her, he could see Felicity stiffen in her seat, trying to process what her mother had just shared.

"Why?" he asked between gritted teeth.

"His wife, Rebecca, she was killed twenty years ago. In the Glades. It pushed Malcolm over the edge. He... he disappeared for two years and when he came back he had changed. He came to us a with a proposition to change the Glades, make them a better place. A safer place."

"Who's us?"

"The leaders of Starling's elite. Robert and Moira Queen, Frank Chen and many others."

He felt like he had been punched in the gut, and took an involuntary step back. Of course he'd known that his father had been a part of this. He'd given him the book of names and the task to right his wrongs, after all. But his mother, too? And they'd been in it from the very start?

"We didn't know how he wanted to change the Glades," Donna continued. "I thought he meant by donations and free clinics and I don't know. Not by completely destroying them. We all wired funds into an offshore account, thinking we were just pooling our money to donate to charities. After it was done he told us his real plan. That he wanted to completely wipe out the Glades and build a new neighborhood from the ground up."

"Why didn't you get out then?"

She let out a sardonic laugh. "We tried, but as soon as we voiced our refusal he started to threaten us. Said that he'd make our transactions to the offshore account look like we were embezzling money and if that wasn't enough reason he gave us each a folder with information about everything, every little detail of our lives. And about our children's lives. Where they went to school, who their friends were, where they liked to go. He threatened to kill them one by one if any of us ever even thought about going against him."

"After a few years, though, we started doubting how serious he actually was. We were all friends for so long, and just couldn't imagine that he would really hurt our children. Robert found someone in China that he wanted to ask for help. Somehow, Malcolm must've gotten wind of it because the next thing we knew is that the Queen's Gambit went down. At our next meeting he said, that that is what happened if you tried going behind his back."

He looked down at her in barely concealed shock. "The shipwreck wasn't an accident and you knew? All of you, including Moira, knew that the Queen's Gambit was sabotaged?"

"Yes," she whimpered, clearly intimidated by his harsh words. "He made an example out of it. And it worked. Everybody was so scared after what happened and we all just... fell in line and helped him realize his plan."

"What exactly was his plan? How did he manage to create an earthquake?"

She wallowed again. "There was a machine designed by Unidac Industries. It was originally designed to conduct research, but Malcolm weaponized it. He planted them somewhere in the city, I don't know where exactly. He then activated them on the 5th of July and it triggered the earthquake."

"Them?" he questioned, a dark suspicion forming in the pit of his stomach.

"There were two, but one of them malfunctioned, that's why only half of the Glades were destroyed. He blames it on my software."

He saw Felicity's head whip around, a shell-shocked expression etched on her face. He shook his head slightly, urging her to stay in her seat and not blow their cover.

"You designed the software?"

"Yes. In order to use it the way he wanted to there had to be changes made to the operating system. I created a software that could circumvent all the safe guards and let the machine be triggered remotely and let it create an earthquake of a greater magnitude. But I swear, I tried to stall him. I tried to delay the completion of the program while Moira and Frank were looking for a way to stop him. But then he had Felicity kidnapped by his associate, the Dark Archer, and forced me to deliver the software in exchange for her life. I had to do it," she said brokenly.

He exchanged a quick glance with Felicity who was staring at him with wide eyes.

"Where is the second machine?"

"I don't know. He brought me a few of the key pieces to figure out why it malfunctioned, so he must've gone back to it at some point in the week after the earthquake. But knowing how distrusting he is, I'd guess that he's keeping the machine close. That is all I know, I swear."

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ARROW ⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

Digg had taken care of Donna, while Oliver and Felicity had driven back to the foundry, the car dipped into an eery silence. Both of them were still processing everything Donna had told them.

When both of them had cleaned up and changed out of their clothes and into something more comfortable, they sat down in front of the computers, staring off into the distance.

"What do we do now, Oliver?" She finally broke the silence.

He looked up at her and shook his head slowly. "I don't know," he said, his voice more than his words telling her that he was just as stumped as she was.

"We have to tell Tommy."

"Tell me what, Lis? That you've finally made up your mind and decided to be with me instead of Ollie?" he quipped cheekily from behind her.

When his quip was only met by silence and a leveling glare by Oliver, he quickly backtracked, "Hey, that was just a joke, guys. Why do you look like someone died?"

Felicity looked up from where her eyes had been glued to the floor and exchanged a long look with Oliver who finally sighed and stood up. They were getting really good at this whole communicating with their eyes thing, she thought fleetingly.

"Tommy," he started. "We just found out who's behind the earthquake. You should probably sit down."

Tommy's face fell and he opened and closed his mouth a few times with no sound coming out before he sank down onto the chair that Oliver had pushed towards him.

"Who's behind it?" he finally asked, his hollow tone indicating that he had a good idea of what their answer would be.

"Your father," Oliver whispered. "He had help, though. From... our parents and... others."

"Why? Why would he...? Why would any of them want to destroy the Glades? How do you even create an earthquake?"

With a deep sigh, Felicity swiveled around in her chair and pressed a button on her keyboard. _"It's Malcolm Merlyn. He's the one who's behind it all."_ Donna Smoak's shaky voice echoed through the foundry when the recording started playing.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

"I can't believe this," Tommy said for the third time.

Felicity walked over to him and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. "We're in this together."

He nods absentmindedly. "What are we going to do?"

Her eyes flickered up to meet Oliver's who leaned against the work table a few feet way, arms crossed over his chest. "I don't know," she whispered.

Diggle stepped forward from where he had kept in the background. He'd been in the warehouse with them so he already knew what was going on. "We have to go after the man in black, the Dark Archer," he said determinedly. "He's a key player in this whole thing, that we need to take out before we can go after Merlyn."

Oliver nodded. "You're right. He's the one protecting Malcolm and doing his bidding when it comes to doing his dirty work. We take him out and we're one step closer to Malcolm."

"And how do you wanna find him? It's not like I can just google his phone number and set up a meet," Felicity chimed in, eyebrows scrunched up in a frown.

"Have you found anything on the traffic cam footage? If we know where Malcolm went after the earthquake, we might find where he positioned the machine and maybe even follow him to where it is now," Diggle suggested.

"I've been running his face through a facial recognition software that's linked to the camera footage from the Glades one week before and after the earthquake, but so far I've had no hits. Especially after the earthquake the power has been on and off and a lot of the cameras aren't working properly anymore," she said, frustration lacing her voice. "I've also tracked his whereabouts using the GPS chip in his phone, but he hasn't been near the Glades in months. And ever since the earthquake, he's either left his phone at home on a regular basis or he's spending a whole lot of time there. Do you know if he's home, Tommy?"

A frown appeared on his forehead. "Yeah, actually he's been home a lot. I've only seen him in passing whenever I went home from Laurel's, but it is actually kinda unusual for him to spend so much time at the mansion. Chances are always better to go looking for him at the office."

"So maybe..." she let the idea hang in the air.

"Maybe he's home so much because that's where the earthquake machine is," Oliver finished.

"Which probably means that the Dark Archer is also somewhere close, keeping an eye on things," Diggle threw in.

Felicity clapped her hands together, glad that they'd finally been able to make some headway. "So, off to the Merlyn mansion."

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

"Oliver, Diggle, are you in position?" Felicity asked over the comms, fingers flying over the keyboard, pulling up satellite images of the Merlyn estate. She may or may not have hijacked a NASA satellite for this mission.

Both men confirmed that they were in position, Oliver at the bay windows of the living room, Diggle in over watch.

"I'm going in," Oliver said, and Felicity watched as his heat signature moved inside the house.

"I only see one other heat signature in the house, could be one floor below." She pulled up blue prints of the house. "It could be the garage."

Tommy leaned over her shoulder. "Yeah, that's the garage," he confirmed.

"Diggle, can you change positions? I'd rather have you closer in case the Dark Archer shows up. I'll keep an eye on the surroundings," Felicity suggested, biting her bottom lip nervously, always keeping an eye on Oliver's red dot as he moved around the house.

"God, this is nerve-racking," Tommy said behind her, pacing around in what little space they had in the back of the van.

Felicity had insisted on coming along on the mission, glaring at Oliver when he had opened his mouth to protest. In the end he'd agreed, but not without laying down ground rules for her. Don't leave the van. Keep a gun close. Stay on the comms at all times. Yada, yada, yada

She hadn't protested, just stepped on her tip toes and kissed him softly, assuring him that they'd get through this together.

Now she was (wo-)manning the computers in the van with Tommy hovering over her shoulder when he wasn't busy pacing up and down.

"Can you please sit down, Tommy, you're making me nervous with all your pacing."

He groaned and mumbled out an apology before slumping down in the chair next to her. "I'm glad when this is over."

"We all are," she replied, giving him a reassuring smile before focusing back on the monitors.

"I'm in position," Diggle voice came over the comms.

"I'm at the door to the garage. Entering in 3... 2... 1..." Felicity heard a door bang open and then Oliver's voice was distorted by his voice modulator. "Malcolm Merlyn, you have-"

A shot rang over the comms system, followed by a string of curse Russian curse words.

"Oliver?" she asked worriedly.

"I'm okay, he missed. Diggle some back up would be appreciated."

"Roger that, I'm on my way."

There was a dark laugh in the background and then Malcolm's voice, "The infamous Hood. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I know about the Undertaking," Oliver said. "Drop your weapon."

"I'd rather not," Merlyn retorted and another round of gunshots echoed through the night.

She was on the edge of her seat until she heard the swish of an arrow flying through the air, knowing that Oliver didn't miss, as evidenced by the many impaled tennis balls in the foundry wall.

She heard Oliver gasp in shock.

"What happened?"

"He caught the fucking arrow."

What?!

"You know, you're not the only one who can handle a bow and arrow," Malcolm snarled.

"Shit," Oliver cursed, followed by a series of pained grunts.

On the screen, she could see that the two heat signatures were close to each other, moving quickly around the space of the garage, never stepping more than a few feet apart.

What the...?

Malcolm Merlyn was fighting the Hood? And better yet, he was still standing? And why wasn't the Dark Archer coming to his help?

 _You're not the only one who can handle a bow and arrow_ , Merlyn's mocking words echoed through her mind.

And then it clicked.

"Shit," she repeated Oliver's earlier curse. "Diggle, get in there now! Merlyn's the Dark Archer."

Two surprised "what?!" made her flinch. "How do you know?" Tommy demanded.

She ignored his question. "Hang in there, Oliver, Diggle's on his way."

All she could hear where punches being thrown, glass breaking and a few grunts from both men.

Hang in there, Oliver, she repeated silently in her head. He'd told her about going up against the Dark Archer and being beaten by him. She knew that she should probably have more faith in him but she was scared. Scared that Diggle wouldn't get there in time to back him up. Scared that he would lose again.

Her heart plummeted when she heard a loud crash, watching as one of the heat signature remained in one place while the other moved away towards the long wall of the garage.

"Oliver," she whispered, but got no response. "Diggle, where are you?"

"This place is like fucking Fort Knox. All the doors are sealed," Diggle ground out.

"The doors all have keypads. Try 7-1-9-2," Tommy jumped in.

Malcolm's smug voice sounded over Oliver's comm link. "How about we end this once and for all? You should know by now that you're no match for me."

She heard the tell-tale sound of an arrow being nocked. A sound she'd gotten so used to hearing while she was working on setting up her new computers in the foundry while Oliver was out patrolling the Glades or practicing with the tennis balls. The sound had become somewhat reassuring and soothing, the sound that let her know that Oliver was fighting against someone who had harmed others, or that he was defending those who couldn't defend themselves.

But now, now it was his death warrant.

"Oliver, _get up_ ," she said forcefully, tears streaming down her face.

Helplessly, she watched as Merlyn's dot moved closer to Oliver's still unmoving figure.

No, no, no. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't lose him.

"Please, get up and fight, Oliver," she sobbed.

Then everything happened all at once. A door banging open, Diggle yelling at Merlyn, a gunshot, the sound of an arrow flying through the air, a scream, another gunshot. And then... everything was silent.

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ARROW ⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

Trembling fingers combed restlessly through his hair. A soft voice saying his name over and over again. His heart pounded in his chest. He knew that voice. He loved that voice. Felicity.

With a sudden surge of energy he inhaled sharply and opened his eyes, blinking rapidly against the bright light. Slowly, ever so slowly, everything started to come into focus.

Before he could say anything, his lips were covered with those of his wife, pulling him into a desperate kiss while her fingers gripped his hair tightly.

"Don't ever do that to me again, Oliver, or I swear I'll kill you myself," she said when she pulled back, leaving him a little dazed and light-headed.

"What did I do?" he asked, noting how raspy his voice sounded. "How long was I out?"

"You flat-lined," Diggle said, while patting his shoulder. "twice. It's good to have you back and in one piece."

"What happened?"

Diggle sighed heavily. "I came in just when Merlyn was about to put an arrow in you, I shot him in the shoulder, but he still managed to release the arrow. Got you right in the shoulder. You lost a lot of blood, that's probably why you flat-lined."

"What about Merlyn?" Oliver asked, when he realized Tommy was being completely silent and standing in the background.

"He pulled out a gun from somewhere, trying to finish you off. I shot him again. He died before the ambulance arrived," Diggle answered quietly.

Oliver turned his head towards his best friend, sitting up on the cold med table despite Felicity's protests. "I'm sorry, Tommy."

"Don't be," he countered instantly. "He used my mother's death to justify killing thousands of innocent people, threatening the lives of his friends and their families so that they would help him in this insane endeavor. He deserved to die," he said coldly.

Oliver stared at him for a few seconds, unsure of what he could possibly say. It wasn't like he could argue with his friend's reasoning, but still...

"I'm gonna go home to Laurel. I'll see you guys tomorrow," Tommy finally said, breaking the silence. He kissed Felicity's cheek and shook Diggle's hand before stopping in front of Oliver. "I'm sorry he did this to you. Not just this wound, but for everything. The Gambit, your father, the island... I'm going to do everything in my power to right my father's wrongs."

Oliver nodded sadly and pulled his best friend into a hug. "We'll all right our parents' mistakes. Together."

 

**⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

 

Half an hour later, after Diggle had promised to check on the earthquake machine they had taken from Merlyn's mansion and brought to a safe house, it was just him and Felicity in the foundry. He was sitting on the med table, his legs dangling off the edges while she stood in between them, arms banding around him, her cheek resting against his good shoulder.

"What are we gonna do?" he mumbled against her temple.

She turned her head and looked at him, their position putting them at eye level.

"We'll fight. We'll fight like hell to help the people in the Glades in any way we can. Be it through donations and relief projects or through the Hood protecting the streets," she said, determination in her voice that he couldn't help but marvel at.

"Do we tell them? That Merlyn was behind it all. That our families helped him do it?"

She sighed and leaned her forehead against his. "I think that would do more harm than good. They would completely turn against us, reject our help. And who else is going to help them? If our companies go under and people lose their jobs, it'll only get worse."

She took a deep breath. "You know as much as I do how hard it is to grow up with a big family name attached to you. With all the expectations and the pressure of being a Queen or a Merlyn or a Smoak. Imagine having your family name linked to domestic terrorism and mass murder. I know it's selfish, but I don't want our kids to grow up with that kind of a burden on their shoulders."

He moved back a little, searching her eyes. "Kids?"

Her eyes widened and she inhaled sharply. "Uh, yeah, someday, right? I know we haven't talked about this, but..."

"I'd like that," he interrupted her with a smile. "Having a little you and me running around, with your incredible wit and my good looks."

She stared at him for a few seconds. "I love you," she finally blurted out.

He couldn't help the grin erupting on his lips. "I love you, too," he said before capturing her lips in a kiss.

When they parted, she huffed out a chuckle against his lips. "What?" he asked, tilting his head in question, a habit he had undoubtedly picked up from her.

"It's a little weird isn't it? Just to think that a few months ago we could barely stand to be in the same room together let a lone have a civil conversation and here we are planning our future together," she said with a reminiscent smile.

"Maybe that was just always the plan for us. It made our relationship just so much more meaningful and _real_ , despite it being anything but in the beginning," he shrugged lightly, bringing his hands to rest on her waist, drawing her in as close as possible. "Wasn't it Shakespeare who said that the course of true love never runs smoothly?"

"Why, Mr. Queen, I'm impressed. Maybe our children should have your brains and my good looks," she teased and kissed him passionately.

"Maybe they should," he quipped back when they parted, resting their foreheads against each other.

"Oliver, what will happen next?" she asked quietly, when she had caught her breath.

He ran his tongue over his lips slowly. "I honestly don't know. But I do know two things: One, I've changed a lot over the past six years but I'll always be someone who will do anything to bring justice this world," he said with conviction.

"And the second thing?"

He smiled brightly at her. "I love you. And with you by my side I finally have hope for a happy future."

 **⁂ ⁂ ⁂** **The End** **⁂ ⁂ ⁂**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title translation: The drama has been acted out/ The play is over
> 
> One last time: let me know what you think :) Don't forget to check out my new-ish story [Game Changer](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3260411/) , because why stop after one AU, right? 
> 
> Feel free to talk to me on [Tumblr](http://bri617aroundtheworld.tumblr.com/) anytime ;)


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